


Môr

by Ruiniel



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Elf, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Romance, Barad-dur, Black Gate, Bloody battles, Crossover, Elessar - Freeform, Elves, Estel, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fourth Age, Galadhrim - Freeform, Gondor, Half-orc, Hobbits, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Ithilien, Middle Earth, Middle-earth has fallen, Mirkwood Elves - Freeform, Morannon, Mordor, Nazgûl | Ringwraiths, Orcs, POV Legolas Greenleaf, Pelargir, Post-Lord of the Rings, Post-Quest, Sauron fair form, Slow Romance, The Lord of the Rings References, The Silmarillion References, The Tower Tolkien, Tolfalas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-01-20 16:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 111,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruiniel/pseuds/Ruiniel
Summary: Strongly AU. The Quest has failed, and Middle-earth is fallen into shadow. Sauron regained his Ring and ushered in a new Age under his rule. In this new world half-orc Kal strives to find her way, driven solely by the will to survive. A tale of an unlikely encounter between opposing sides, of differences and unity, painful lessons, friendship and beyond. Fourth Age.Warning: rated for dark themes, depictions of violence, mature content.---DISCLAIMER: This fan fiction is intended for personal, non-commercial use only. No copyright infringement is intended.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Arwen Undómiel & Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf, Legolas Greenleaf & Legolas Greenleaf's Brother(s), Legolas Greenleaf/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 217
Kudos: 290





	1. Cover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover art:
> 
> Tarot card style commission by Asia Marianelli. Love her work! See more here:
> 
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	2. The world wrought anew

She sat sheltered by the warmth of the fire, still as the veiled night reigning above. Flames illuminated a young, drawn face with angular features. Amber eyes sunken with fatigue glistened listlessly as embers soared into the cold air. It had been another full day of alternating force, grueling marching, and tense stealth. Another day of hunting and capturing stray humans, ones daft or desperate enough to be found still wandering the forests of Ithilien. She looked to the left, where large iron cages held exhausted and frightened men, women and children. Very few of them had defiance etched on their faces. Soon they would be brought to the Black Land to meet their new fates.

She had seen it before. The smithies and forges would rapidly swallow their strength, their hope, their lives. The Dark One now had his long-desired empire and it was ever growing, ever changing. Its heavy reliance on thralls meant His armies now had a new purpose. This detachment was but one of many scouring the lands with the intent of capturing those to be used for His goals. She had heard of a great war, one so terrible it left many lands barren and razed entire realms to the ground. The tales from the uppermost ranks of the Lord of the Earth were full of the majesty with which His army had defeated its enemies and brought His dominion upon their wretched backward realms. She had heard wisps of tales of it, but it had all passed before her time. This was the world she knew and strove to survive in, and there was nothing else.

"You! Sitting nice and comfy there, ain'tcha?" a growl brought the female out of her wandering thoughts. Gurthok.

Frowning, she looked to the speaker with narrowing eyes. His impossibly tall and bulky frame clad in iron was menacing on its own, even without the bulging milky eyes and grey-brown mane of dirty hair.

Angry orbs now set on her. "Well, what ya still eyeballin' me for, Kal?" the imposing Uruk hankered in the Black Speech. "Get off yer half-breed arse before I make ya. It's yer turn to guard the prisoners."

Among the entire company trekking across the land, all of which were resplendent examples of cruelty and violence, Gurthok stood well apart. All under his command knew it and moreso felt it. Those who did not, forfeited their lives as fast as one could cleave through human flesh. His subordinates hated yet obeyed him in fearfulness. His moods ranged from foul to rotten, and Kal knew that in this moment she was on the receiving end of the latter. It was best not to antagonize him. The scar on her shoulder served as a brief reminder of a time when she had, and nearly lost her life in the process.

Wordlessly Kal stood stomping in her boots, clad as she was in her sleeveless worn leather tunic and breeches, her blackened scimitar safely secured to her back. Gurthok paid her no more heed as he turned and went to bark orders to the others. She glanced his way. He well knew that here, his command was law. He need not wait to see that she would follow his demand.

The one named Kal walked purposefully towards the cages, her lithe frame illuminated by the various campfires. The sole female of this group she was, and hardily had the creature earned her place among the mayhem and bloody affair that were the armies of Mordor. Only the fittest survived, even fewer thrived. Yet somehow she had managed both.

"Ak! Kal givin' it up finally tonight? I be waitin' behind the grove for ya," a gangly sallow-skinned orc rasped as she passed him by.

"No, Kroznak, but my offer to crush your balls and gift them to you in a jar yet stands," she retorted dully, rolling her eyes at his snicker.

"Ya stinking oddity, one day ya'll see the better end of my rod and I'll have ya beggin' for it too," Kroznak sneered, eyes unabashedly trailing over her smooth face, down to her waist and figure as she swayed away from him.

They never ceased reminding her. A half-breed, neither fully orc nor Uruk. Yet she suspected having been born of one, and a different fairer race. Somehow she held the likeness of humans in form, though she was taller and suppler in frame than most human females she had seen. Her skin was pale and smooth, an unsettling contrast to her amber irises that encircled round black centers.

Framed by heavy sable hair, her face appeared rather fine in its shape, her features too regular for anyone to rightly mistake her for orc kind. Two slight upper fangs were the most poignant trait linking her to a race of Mordor. Still, despite the characteristics which made her so noticeably strange among the brawny and motley companies of orc and Uruk-hai, her strength Kal assumed she owed to them. She could fight her way against any male Uruk, assuredly a trait that had enabled her survival in the Black Land. There were those who throughout her life had called her an abomination living by the will of the Dark One alone. Products of such unlikely unions tended to perish soon after their hard birth or were disposed of, being considered weaklings and thus a waste of resources.

Yet somehow the hardships had increased her strength and endurance. This and an unrelenting stubbornness alone had kept the half-orc out of the slave pens and out of the hands of ones such as Kroznak, for whom female bodies were disposable merriment. She had seen what happens to them, both in the pens and in the wilds. She had felt such debasing attempts on her own skin. Never again, and she had sworn to break the spine of any who would try. And so she had fought her way from among the laborers to the recruitment lines. After much trial, bone-breaking training, and no little amount of debasing contempt, she was finally assigned to go on scouting missions. This included traveling with the most dangerous of them to hunt enemies for labor, but she complained little. What else was there? This was life.

Leaning against a tree and scouring the frightened humans briefly with her eyes, she let her thoughts wander. It aided to not have to look into their eyes. Somehow the fear there always unsettled her. Was that how she must have looked once? Her eyes flitted back to the figure of Kroznak, now barking and flailing his arms at another orc. Such filth had been her plight all her life. But when there was nothing else, it all became accepted as the way of things. Kal they had called her. _Woman_. Nothing more, but it was enough. She took the name.

"Please, water," one of the women begged then, and looking Kal saw a human child hiding in the folds of her worn cloak. Snorting, Kal went a few steps towards a large bucket and a wooden pouring cup. She brought the object next to the woman who had spoken and placed it sharply onto the ground. "Only if your smaller one takes it," she said in the common tongue, looking to the child who now dared gape at her.

Hearing this the woman regarded the little one and hedged him, and though reluctantly, he reached and retrieved water for himself and his mother.

"Quickly now," Kal urged before anyone saw and there would be trouble. Others were now asking for water as well. "Silence!" she hissed, brandishing her scimitar. The murmurs ceased, and Kal reached for the water bucket intent on returning it to its rightful place. She had made two steps when there was sound of a great commotion and the high pitched cackle of voices. Many feet thumped against the forest floor as the darkness revealed two Uruk-hai dragging what looked to be a prisoner in submission.

Kal found her vision straying to the struggling form of the strangest being she had ever seen. Slighter of frame than its captors. Fair of hair and face, he seemed a herald of light garbed in faded green. But he struggled something fierce, and gave her companions so much grief they had to soften him with blows to quench that bothersome strength.

They were coming nearer and Kal belatedly recalled she was on prisoner duty for the entire night.

"Sha! Half-breed! Look what we found skirtin' bout the trees yonder."

The prisoner looked quite harried, a frowning gaze stubbornly set to the ground as he thrashed against their grip with relentless fierceness; Kal saw he was limping and if she were to go by all the blood, had been through much physical struggle. And her eyes widened in surprise when she beheld the tips of his ears.

Kal crossed her arms at her chest. "What is this?" she muttered her question, irked at having to converse or witness yet another brilliantly idiotic skirmish with two clearly unreasonable interlocutors. They reeked of blood and death and entrails. It made her sick, to remain so after a battle; there were stains and smells from weeks ago upon their skin.

"Dunce of a woman!" the burly orc grinned her way, giving her a complimentary view of his decaying fangs. "This here...," he said shaking the grimacing prisoner roughly by his silvery hair, "...is an elf."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the title of the story: "Môr" = "Darkness/Night" (Sindarin)


	3. By saying nothing

"Move, idiots!" Gurthok snarled as he joined the group who were trying to set the struggling elf down. He reached and took the prisoner by the chin. "So, ya thought ya could outsmart them dumb orcs, didn'tcha, little elf?" he grinned menacingly, a grin Kal knew was the bearer of storms.

The elf withstood the bantering stoically Kal noticed, refusing to meet the eyes of either of his captors. But could he ever struggle. She never knew such seemingly fragile creatures - compared to the Uruk-hai at least - could harness so much strength.

"Oh but yer uselessly wastin' yer precious life force, yer not getting out of this one," Gurthok grinned at the elf, who in that moment spat at the Uruk's feet.

_That was a mistake,_ Kal thought offhandedly, seeing the tautness in Gurthok's limbs.

"Why ya disrespectful tree fucker," the Uruk cursed, "Hold him up," he followed and Kal watched as a well-positioned blow under the ribs mellowed the elf's stance. Another blow followed, this one to the face leaving a thick stream of blood pouring from his nose over his lip, and knocking him unconscious. He took a fistful of the elf's hair. "I can't wait to see ya turned, little elf. Under my command ya shall be, I'll make sure of it," he grinned before releasing the elf and turning to look at Kal.

"You, since ya keep cryin' bout havin' more responsibility, take this one. Guard the pointy-eared bastard, and by dawn find out what the fool were doin' spyin' on us like it was his business."

Kal nodded, thinking with some apprehension that she had no inkling of how to do so and cursing Gurthok in her mind.

He reached and pulled Kal to him by the arm. "And ya better succeed too, else you share his punishment," he growled before releasing her sharply and turning to walk away. "Get out of here," the Uruk roared to the others.

Their new capture had been tied to the trunk of a tree not far from the prisoners' cages. The others continued to mumble threats and unseemly comments about elves before they departed, leaving Kal alone with an inert creature she had never even seen close before. But she had heard what happens to their ilk in the dungeon pits of the Tower. None were ever heard from again, not in the same form of existence at least. It was thought the elves have mostly all been captured or otherwise escaped somewhere unknown once the Dark One began rearranging the world to his desires. Yet now, here she was, facing one of the elusive beings themselves. She dared not admit it even to herself but-

She was intrigued. Kal crouched down next to the motionless prisoner, observing his features.

It was male, assuredly. Elves resembled Men she heard, save for the shape of their ears. Kal distractedly reached for her own similarly pointed appendages. He had very long and straight silver hair, braided curiously at the sides. It must look different without all the blood and dirt caught in it. His features were well defined, his frame slightly larger than hers if she had assumed correctly. His clothing was in greens and grays, a plain tunic and trousers. He wore leather bracers, and worn but swirling patterns could still be discerned on them._ An archer, then._ He had a belt but no weapons, which were clearly now thrown somewhere in a pile next to the Uruk ones. And Kal noted a silvery brooch in the shape of a leaf at the base of his neck, fastening his worn cloak. The only notable object on his otherwise muted appearance. He was somewhat tattered but it all fit him well. The gleam of the brooch was enchanting, reflecting the weak light from the fires around them. Still crouched as she was in front of him, Kal reached without thought. Her hand had just touched the object when his eyes opened.

"Ego!" the elf called harshly, startling Kal so much she nearly fell down backwards. She snatched her hand back and jumped ramrod straight away from him.

It was then she noticed the gleaming quality of his eyes. Angry, hateful eyes piercing her own. They were very light, a startling shade of grey, and currently showed nothing but burning hate. Kal had never seen their like before.

They stared at each other for a while, one a cornered animal, the other a curious explorer.

"What does that mean?" Kal decided, speaking in the Common tongue. Maybe she could pry it out of him without the beatings? She hoped Gurthok had been a sufficient incentive to his obedience.

His wary gaze was still set on her, and a dry, haughty smile slipped across his features. The prisoner then closed his eyes, looking to the side. "Avo dhavo am môr," he muttered, more to himself.

Now, this was riling. How was she to obtain information if they did not speak the same language?

"What is your meaning, elf?" Kal tried her most demanding voice, now towering above him with her arms crossed.

He slowly looked upward at her, merely staring into her amber eyes. That dry smile still cut his face. "Dago nin, tolo," came the strangest sounds Kal had ever heard from one living.

His eyes held a spark that unsettled her. Angered by his defiance Kal took a fistful of his tunic. "Listen to me, you will end here either way, so why not make it all easier to bear? Tell me. Why were you following us?"

No answer but that smile.

"Speak, elf!" she shook him, only to be regaled with an even wider condescending smirk.

She struck him with all her strength.

A new trickle of blood made its way down his lip, but the grin persisted.

"Do you wish to die uselessly? Is that it?" Kal growled hovering over him. "Do not think that because I am female, you have the easier side of it. I was born beyond the Gate, elf. I have seen and lived through things that would burn your pretty eyes. Once there, you will pray you had spoken to me and we killed you on the way."

Eyes glistening with resent and true, burning hate to rival that of the Uruk-hai bored into hers. Yet he would still say nothing.

Kal struck him again, infuriated, her bracer leaving light scratches upon his drawn cheek. She went to where the bucket of water was and shortly returned with it in hand. "See this? I am certain you are thirsty already. Imagine how much worse it will be the rest of the way. We do have enough travel ahead of us until we reach the Gate, and you will not be seeing any drop of this. Lest you speak." And for emphasis, she took the bucket and spilled its contents at her feet.

His expression remained the same, a scornful grin and silence. Watching her.

He was prodding her, and she had fallen prey to his design. It was infuriating in ways she never knew before. Kal was at the end of her tether. "Fine. Stay here, wallow in your idiotic pride. We will get it out of you yet. If you do not die from the beatings, thirst, or hunger beforehand," she muttered, throwing the empty bucket to the side. She placed her hands on her hips, regarding him another few moments.

He had lowered his head, the smile now gone. Did he care so little for his own life? Were not elves supposed to be immortal? If that was not worth guarding, treasuring, Kal knew not what was. It was the opposite of all she had lived by throughout her short years. To survive, no matter the trial. Yet this one, he seemed to welcome the punishment. What new form of darkness was this?

The elf would not look her way again, seemingly having retreated to his own musings.

Kal debated striking or otherwise jabbing him again into speaking. But when the elf closed his eyes, she felt a curious hollow in her chest. "I will return," she said. "You best decide soon, elf. Whether it is a quick death or a slow, agonizing existence in our service that you wish for."

His gaze remained lost as if the elf had not even heard her.

"Few to none even have such a choice," Kal muttered finally as she turned away.

She did not see him lift his head, nor the broken quality of his weary smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ego!" = Get away (rude form) (Sindarin)
> 
> "Avo dhavo am môr" = Do not submit to darkness (Sindarin)
> 
> "Dago nin. Tolo!" = Kill me, come on (Sindarin)
> 
> All Elvish words and sentences used herein are lazily drawn from realelvish dot net, a resource I find most valuable (and worth a donation!).


	4. In circles

By the time dawn was upon them, Kal had made no progress with the captured elf. She looked at him menacingly, the way he stubbornly sat with his vision set downward. He had not slept all night, for neither had she. She stood planted in front of him, arms crossed, regarding the prisoner with a wary eye. The most obstinate being she had ever come across. Even wargs broke easier. The hustle and bustle of the camp was beginning to make itself known as different smells were permeating through the air, rendering it foul and hard to breathe. Kal was used to it. The company of orcs was no tale of beauty to remember fondly. She sighed and looked behind her briefly.

"Well, elf, last chance, will you speak before Gurthok comes?" All he had been doing was to whisper broken fragments in that quirky language of his for the entire night. "You remember him, he left you that lovely token," the half-orc pointed to his bloodied nose.

No reaction.

"You!" she leaned closer, impatiently kicking the sole of his boot.

That proved a move that gave her more than she bargained for. His eyes snapped open, and in an instant, Kal felt the ground slip away. As soon as she could draw her next breath she realized the elf had kicked the ground from under her, and she now was trapped, her neck caught between powerful legs, suffocating in a vice hold. She gasped as the constrictive force became stronger and her breathing more shallow, scratching and pulling at him to no avail. He was saying something she did not understand, and Kal tried to rise but the damnable creature kept her pinned, an unlikely prisoner.

"Useless she-orc!" she heard then, and the sound of another blow reverberated through the camp as something cracked. The deathly grip on her lessened as Kal was pulled roughly to her feet.

Gurthok looked at his subordinate with a menacing milky white eye for a few moments, gasping as she was before she felt a blow land hard to her jaw.

"I leave ya to pry his worth out of him and this is what I find?" he pointed to the now unconscious elf. One of his eyes was rapidly gaining a violet bruising shade, swelling in size with frightful speed.

"He... is stubborn... Gurthok," Kal managed, pushing back an orc who laid its claws on her with a cackle. "I tried, yet he will not speak but his own gibberish. What am I to do with that?" she asked with no bite, but it still enraged Gurthok further.

The Uruk took her roughly by the arm, claws digging into her skin. "I care not, but do it before we reach the Gate, or ya shall have his fate. I've long wished to find your match, half-breed. Ya always boasted to be just as capable as yer brethren. Now is the time to prove it, and yer making a miserable task of it," he struck the half-orc again for emphasis as she struggled, causing her to stagger back. "Now pry it out of him," he growled, then a frightful rictus appeared on his misshapen face. "Before we gets hungry and stop caring," he grinned towards the elf.

It did happen at times. While orc and Uruk meals consisted of rotten meat of dubious or rather unknown origin, they have never shied away from making a feast of captured prisoners. Depending on the state of the company, they did all that was required to keep its wild and unruly members at bay and in working condition.

"Did that burrow into yer empty head?"

"Yes, Gurthok," she grumbled.

"What was that? Louder, wench."

"Yes I will pry it out of him, commander Gurthok," the half-orc growled.

Aside from that happening, the day appeared to otherwise pass without event. Kal had taken to a nearby stream to wash her face and arms before the group set forth once more. It was one unusual trait that set her apart from the others. Bathing. She despised the stench of filthy orc, used to it though she was. Perhaps a token of the fairer race she partly belonged to, and one discovered soon after she learned of the existence of springs and streams on the way of their missions. Her thoughts strayed back to the elf. How to make him reveal his mind? Gurthok was not one for idle threats. He would end the creature, one way or another. This despite the fact that elves were rarely captured to be turned nowadays and considered a rare commodity, as it were. For they rendered powerful soldiers once the Dark One was done with them, or so others said.

Kal filled the bucket of water she had brought with her and set towards the area where the human prisoners were held. Gasps pleading for water were heard from the cages, but she passed them quickly. Coming to stand in front of the elf in one motion she flung the full content of ice-cold water over his face. It worked. He awoke with a start, eyes lost but for one brief span of time before they refocused on her. Hatefully. Kal was getting accustomed to this. She crouched down beside him.

"That little desperate display earned you a gift, I see you bear it well," and she reached and pushed on his swollen eye socket as the elf sharply drew away, throwing her a foreboding look. "A commendable attempt though. Why did you do that?" she was truly curious. "Ending me would not have brought your freedom. On the contrary. And now they debate making a meal of you."

Golden-yellow eyes followed his expression to see if her words brought about any change. She took in the sharp lines of his face, his set jaw. His cold eyes turned on her. He looked so fragile, yet stood so proud and unwavering. It would be... quite admirable if it were not so utterly foolish.

Kal sighed. "Listen here, you are a bane upon my existence, and I want no more to do with you than you with me. Can we not end this? Say your piece so we can kill you, and then you will be free, and so will I."

"Law thraston," the elf hissed hoarsely and looked to the ground again.

Kal growled in frustration, standing to her feet. "Cease that! I know you understand me!"

An infuriating grin made its way onto his fair features. Too fair, if Kal thought so herself.

How to coerce him into speaking? He had eaten nothing, they had given him no water, he was certainly weakened from the beatings. His stubbornness would be the end of them both. Then there was another matter. They would start to move soon, and since the elf was her responsibility courtesy of that dung hole Gurthok, she had to somehow have him up and moving. Kal gathered her own stitched leather bag containing her meager belongings and finally came to stand before the prisoner, one short dagger in hand.

"We move, so I will have to cut you free. I will not render you unconscious unless you make this difficult. Remember, there is no escape."

But as she cut the heavy bonds he only breathed deeply, and when she ushered the elf to his feet he posed no resistance.

She roughly spun him against the tree, her entire body pushing well into his taller form, her hands forceful on his wrists as she snapped heavy iron cuffs around them. Without wanting or indeed expecting to, as she held him fast Kal noticed a faint scent of something unknown about him. He certainly did not _smell_ like a captured prisoner. There was no waft of waste, fear, or bloody sweat. It was unusual... clean? It reminded her of certain mornings when the forest was bathed in fresh droplets of water.

She pushed herself sharply away from the prisoner, barring the thought and odd question dying on her lips.

Kal pulled on the chains of the cuffs and then one hand was heavy on his shoulder as she forcefully thrust him forward. The elf struggled anew, merely to give her grief she thought. "Cease or I will have to harm you again, but now others might also join in the revelry," she muttered as they reached the column of Uruks.

Dusk found them setting camp once more, and Kal still walking back and forth before the elf, who was now dutifully tied down to another tree.

Members of the group would stop by the area and harass or otherwise spit his way, but the elf looked undeterred, his gaze willfully set before him no matter their stings.

_How to make him speak? _She stood in front of him again. Then, trailing over his figure, her keen eye caught a silver shine.

Barely protruding from under the tight high collar of his tunic, it shone with a brightness she had never seen before. In a sudden move Kal reached for his neck, and before his startled eyes roughly pulled at the thin chain, until it revealed an object most unusual. It flickered in a mesmerizing shimmer. Her eyes beheld a gem of sorts, deep green in color, set on a grey shining metal. The shape was wrought into that of an eagle with its wings spread. The precious stone, for indeed even Kal realized what it was, shone brilliantly even in the dim light of the wood as she turned it over in her hand.

Her eyes cut to his, and for the first time, Kal saw remnants of distress in them. Not wasting a beat she pulled at the chain roughly until it snapped, swiftly rising and turning away with the item in hand.

"Wait!" a strained voice with a foreign accent sounded from behind her, causing Kal to whirl around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> 'Law thraston' = '~ I don't care'


	5. What dreams may come

Kal stared at the elf in brief surprise before her features shuttered. He had spoken in the common tongue, as she knew he could. "Wait?" she repeated, approaching the prisoner slowly, the jewel in hand. Kal bent her knees as she warily descended close to him. There had been brief desperation in that one word he uttered, the remnants of which were still visible in his eyes. She gaped at him inquisitively, taking in his bloodied features. "This holds meaning to you," Kal swiftly dangled the chain before his eyes, which narrowed once more with resent. Finally, something to work with.

"Kal!" a snarl was heard not far from them. The elf's eyes widened at the sound and despite her confusion as to why, Kal followed her sudden impulse and quickly palmed the precious object in the recesses of her tunic.

Kroznak neared them with his heavy stride as Kal still stood crouched facing the elf, their eyes locked. His were of a sky grey hue, she decided.

"Ya get anythin' out of the spindly wretch yet?" the orc mumbled as he gnawed on a raw piece of meat of unknown origin, his moat eyes regarding the elf viciously. But the prisoner was watching Kal.

"None of your business, Kroznak," she muttered.

"Bwahaha," Kroznak cackled in what could have been a fit of superior laughter. "Don't push me, wench. Too kind and allowing I've been to ya, and methinks that'll change soon," the orc spoke between mouthfuls, earning an eye roll from the half-orc.

"I believe, I am on the right path," she replied tightly in the end. A new enemy was not what she needed now, not in her precarious situation with the company. "I had him speaking Common."

"Oh, ya don't say?" Kroznak spat a piece of bone he had been chewing on. "I see him still in one piece. Yer methods are lacking, I always says-,"

"Off with you and let me do my task, Kroznak," Kal hissed, and a small part of her was somewhat surprised she could still hold that withering gaze. The elf had propped his head against the tree, still watching her blankly.

The orc huffed, drawing nigh and taking the prisoner harshly by the hair. Kal saw him gritting his teeth. "Such weak and pathetic creatures. No wonder the ones we didn't snag all disappeared off the face of Middle-earth," he growled before releasing the elf with a shove and turning away.

"Ya best be moving, Kal. Gurthok is gettin' mighty pissy over all of this, yer incompetency included," the orc threw as he stomped away, his coppery rusty mail shirt and armor clattering about him.

The half-orc looked to her feet and sighed, alone with the prisoner once more. She regarded the strange being in her charge again. "Now, where were we?" she began. A cold rain descended upon the forest, pouring through the sparsely leafed trees, slowly drenching their hair and faces. The elf closed his eyes as droplets splashed his face, and dried blood began to fall in reddened rivulets down his skin.

Kal retrieved the gem from her garment. "You want this back? You better tell me what your mettle is," she demanded.

The elf snorted in derision and opened his eyes to look at her with that same hated smirk. Of course, nobody would believe that. His fate was sealed, they both knew. Yet his stubborn resistance appeared to be the only aid keeping his spirit fighting. Kal cursed her seemingly poor intimidation skills. So elves were not as susceptible to fear as humans were, she devised. She could administer a good beating, none had cause to deny it. But making prisoners confess? Apparently she was woefully lacking, and her struggles will have been for nothing, the beatings will have been for nothing. Her doom was spelled because of this... this elf.

"Filth!" she swore, stood, and kicked a nearby rock in anger. Kal turned and leaned forward against the tree on the other side of where the elf was tied, buried her head in the crook of her elbow, and breathed harshly to calm herself. She should simply show her finding to Gurthok. He would know what to do, and she would perhaps be free of this trial. Or he could simply have his men corner her and do what he had threatened to do if she failed. "I cannot do this," she sighed to herself unthinkingly in Common, a rare, fleeting moment of weakness.

"Then why do you try?"

Kal straightened suddenly. Woefully she realized she had spoken aloud. That same accent, strange on the ears. Rounding the tree, cautiously Kal came to stand before the elf again. He looked up at her.

"What did you say?" There was intrigue in her voice.

"If your life here is so miserable, why do you struggle among them?"

The half-orc bristled at that, forgetting he had finally started to speak in Common, which had been part of her entire goal. "I am not... miserable," she gritted. What was the point of this? They spoke the same language now, but it seemed not much help after all.

That grin again. "One could have fooled me."

"Hold your tongue!" she hissed, now truly riled, hovering above him with clenched fists.

"A strange request, considering your previous efforts," he went on undeterred.

Kal felt strangely disheartened and silly before this creature. Indeed, she had wanted him to speak. And now he was, but only as an attempt to debase her. _I know your game. _"You are avoiding the true matter," she dangled the chain before him again. "Maybe, I take this to melt," Kal looked at the pendant then back to the elf, whose gaze had darkened.

He sighed a long, heaving sigh and looked away. "You are poor at this."

With sudden rage, Kal drew a knife from her boot in a dark haze. In a flash it was pressed to his neck, her knee pushing so hard against his chest the elf gasped.

"I should end you this moment," her manner turned fey, visible in the eyes set upon his.

"Then what is keeping you?" the elf retorted, his smile more frightful than Kal would expect from a being condemned. There was no pleading, no fear, only defiance.

_This is what he wants, _she drew back from him. Deciding she had tried enough for the time being, Kal went to the opposite side of the tree and let herself plop down onto the ground.

Somewhere in the distance, the sounds of clinking and clanking of weapons could be heard. Another brawl. Daft they were, her cold-blooded kin. Unbidden, the thought brought a different memory. Spilled blood, seeping over adamant floors. A harsh fog, barely breathable. And she was trapped in it, splayed upon cold tiles. Chains rattled inside an eyeless prison. The cries of others reached to the great courts, gurgling, a reminder of what was to come.

Fighting, struggling. They laughed as she cried her throat into a hoarse mess, the tip of a blade slicing deeper into warm flesh.

She would not beg, she would not show her mounting fear. Her eyes saw nothing but a vast shadow. Strong pale hands held her own still. She growled and bit and scratched. She tried to rise, her body failing. The blazing Eye burned in flaring pain with each breath.

_Kal...ghâshaure..._

Sounds without meaning. Upon waking, she would forget. She always did. They were formless in her mind, and she could not grasp their meaning.

She was before a great pit, and was drawn closer. Another stood there. She neared, feeling watched, but there was no one else. As the half-orc approached the edge of the gaping nothingness, she turned her head.

_The elf?_

It was he, his face as bruised as she had left it, staring into the void. He murmured words she could not discern, and without a second thought, she leaned closer to hear. Closer still, Kal saw a look of utter defeat on his face. She had seen it on humans countless times before.

_Elessar..._

A whisper carried away.

Kal reached for him just as his head snapped towards her, and grey eyes became angry flames. She was being shoved forward, and beheld nothing more as she was flung into the abyss.

She awoke with a start, her brow lined with beads of sweat. Kal scrambled to her feet, and only after a few stilling moments listening to her short gasps did she notice she was clutching the confiscated jewel to her breast.

She closed her eyes. These visions came and went. Most were memories that tore at her sleep at times. Many she would have given anything not to remember, yet they came all the same. An image of coarse hands threatened to overwhelm her and Kal shook her head, suddenly and haplessly angered. She whirled to where the elf sat, her mind still reeling.

He was awake, now staring at her. "You cried as if you were in pain." A strange statement. There was no discernible emotion in his voice.

Kal loathed him. What did this creature know of arcane arts? What odd forms of magic could his kind set upon their enemies?

"How did you do that?" she asked angrily.

The prisoner raised an eyebrow. "Do... what?"

Kal leaned over him then and in a flurry of movement, her legacy made itself known. She balled her fist and struck him once, twice, thrice.

"This is pain. Toy with me again-" but then, as sudden as it came, her fury abandoned her, and Kal slumped back down, some distance away from him.

The elf shook his head to regain himself, grimacing at the sting of his now split lip.

They sat in silence for a long while.

Then the half-orc lifted her head, and as she spoke she saw the elf still at her words.

"What is the meaning of _elessar_?"


	6. Hope that was broken

The elf listened, but the forest did not speak. He felt its grief, as all those of his kind could, but had not the strength to even curse the ones responsible. Nor even hate came easily anymore, but then again few things stood as they once were. Had anyone seen him in a time before this all came to pass, they would have deemed the elf a shade. He was weakened and waning, as they all were. The light that once filled the Secondborn had diminished, as if the Secret Fire had all but been extinguished in the outer Circles, leaving a faint flicker. Now they were bound to the world, but could not leave it. The Valar had turned away. It ever hurt to think it, but there was no other possible truth._ Else why let us fall?_ the elf wondered yet again. Why allow the Shadow to take rule over the world?

He pressed his eyes tightly shut, the memory unwilling to yield, overflowing like black mist in his tired mind.

_Elessar..._

The muster had walked into a living nightmare, and the elf could see it on their faces. Their lack of understanding of this war, as they questioned fate for leading them to such a pass. The lands were desolate and full of horrors, and none dared tread them ere the end. And now it was the end. The last stand. They marched on, their banners aflutter in the foul winds, to challenge the strength of Mordor.

"To the last, in defense of the West!" he heard the words of the king, and felt the men heartened before their foes though beasts innumerable were spewing forth from the Black Gate.

They fought valiantly, outnumbered though they were. Yet in the mayhem, the elf had lost sight of the friend he had sworn to protect, and not even his eyes could discern his figure through the heavy shadows cast upon their host. Cutting through enemies he lunged forward, his eyes set on the Dúnadan in his desperate path, carving through foes with blinding speed. Then his heart withered to ash, and his hope fell into dust.

"Aragorn," the elf fell to his knees in the midst of falling blades and thrashing limbs, looking on helplessly at the human and his bloodied hand curled on his sword. His eyes were become misty, but still held that strong light in them the elf knew so well.

The Ringwraiths sped high upon their beasts, darkening the skies before diving back to slash and tear their foes into pieces. The elf felt their presence as a deepening shadow, drowning all. Their wings spread high above them.

"We were ready for the last throw, my friend," the human called with a smile which frightened the elf, weakened though he was. Blood drenched the white tree on his breast. "Legolas, lead the retreat," Aragorn tried speaking steadily, the ring of his line glimmering green on his pale finger. He was clutching weakly at the elf, and pain was bare on his features.

"Not the last throw," the elf shook his head. "Can you rise?" he asked, despite the truth which he would not, could not see.

With trembling hands, the wounded man reached for his neck and retrieved the chain with its precious burden.

"Take the elf-stone," the ranger urged, "For her, if you see her again... when you see her again."

"No," the elven prince shook his head, and his voice broke for the first time in all the long years they had known each other. "It is you who should do this. Estel," he shook the fallen man when his eyes closed briefly. "Daro a vaetho!" he cried, his hands firmly grasping his friend. "Gin iallon..." he lowered his head. The dust of battle rose about them. He wanted to aid the Dúnadan to rise but a rider was upon them just then, and by the time he had repelled the attack and turned around, his friend was nowhere to be found.

He remembered a deep, debilitating fury, and a blood-soaked frenzy. He did not recall how the host of the West had achieved a retreat, or how he came to be with the rest. By the time the forces of Sauron had ravaged their numbers, he and the ones left were well away. And then there was chaos, running, and hiding. They lost the world that day. He never felt it any different. Tired feet climbing threatening peaks came to his mind, and the pain was renewed. What was it they had seen in those final hours? Had they reached even close to their goal? What did they endure?

A sound pulled him from the moors of the past and adjusting his hearing, the elf listened.

The she-orc slept. She was wailing. Of course, even dark hearts had their darkest fears. But hers were born of pain, he sensed it well. Yet he could feel no mercy. He felt little of much else these days, as time relentlessly carved its way through the world.

The elf returned to his thoughts, halfheartedly struggling against the heavy bonds. Once, this would have been nothing to his strength. But now he was weary, drained as the rest were by the blight upon all living things. The waning weighed down on them, and the path into the West was shut, though the call remained. And so here he was, as all and any of his kin left in the world, bearing a longing for a Sea that bore them nowhere, from a port that no longer existed. When the Grey Havens fell he felt a deep sundering, as if an omen had been given. Stranded on these shores he now was, neither fading nor truly living. _But with one last purpose._

Was _he_ even alive? And then, the elf remembered the gulls of Pelargir. How upon hearing them he had forgotten of even the war in Middle-earth. How they had sung of the sea as he listened, and he could not forget them ever after, nor their song.

_West, west away, the round sun is falling..._

Another sound shifted his focus. Her boots were heavy upon the ground. The female was distressed. He frowned, heard her coming towards him.

"You cried as if you were in pain," the elf told her as she stood before him, her eyes wild. He wondered at the fear in them.

"How did you do that?" she hissed.

"Do... what?" he frowned, having little notion of her meaning.

Of course, he should have known the craven would resort to pain yet again. Her strikes hurt indeed as she was strong, but the elf felt them only in passing, the pain welcomed. Not difficult to read at all, this young orc.

Though, calling her an 'orc' would perhaps be an err on his part, and not only owed to her appearance. When he had seen her eyes and the creature looked at him first with wonder and only then with hate, he had known what she was. The elf wondered if she did, but he doubted such. And it saddened him, to see such proof of hate and malice, living and breathing the air of a broken world. It could have been different.

He turned back to her. His jailer was fair of form from what he had seen, and the only one to look so among the lost ones. She was lost as well, but what astonished the elf was that her cruelty had been surely learned, and was not innate. He could easily guess why that was so. How could such a creature survive the Black Land? The elf grimaced. Now the entire world bore that name, or soon would. Smithies and forges were swallowing the forests and waters at a much more alarming speed than before. Places once fair and hidden now lay abandoned by their former dwellers or were trodden with blood and battle. The hunt and decimation of the remaining peoples which fought openly against Sauron had left a stain upon Arda, one never to be cleansed. Stranger creatures still now lurked in once shimmering lands, and the freedom of Men was a memory, hard-earned and with a steep price.

The elf sighed, for lost to him were most those held dear. The ghosts of the past never left his side. He looked towards the still living boughs of the tree. A blessing their lack of knowledge. Tying an elf to a living source, close to the power of Nature, such as it remained. It aided his mind, indeed what remained of his will.

"What is the meaning of _elessar_?" the she-orc broke the silence.

Her voice came unusually soft, her manner opposite to her previous uncontrolled ire. _She is drained._

At first, the elf thought he had heard her poorly. _Impossible__._ He regarded her warily and noticed her shaking hand clutching the elf-stone.

It was best to stay guarded. How could a spawn of the nether of the Tower know of such a name? She could not have known of _him_. Was there more to this? Perhaps they had assigned her to watch him on purpose. Her bearing was certainly somewhat less uncouth than that of the foul ones.

"Well?" the half-orc insisted.

"That which you withhold to your chest," he decided finally.

Her eyes widened in surprise, "This, is called an... _elessar_?"

"It means 'star-stone'," the elf supplied tiredly.

She seemed to ponder. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is its worth to you?"

"It belonged to a friend."

Confusion lined her brow. "...friend?"

Despite himself, the elf felt a strange, scornful pity for this being. A child of Mordor who had never known friendship. "A friend, yes. One who is a close companion. One who cares for you, as you do for them in turn."

The elf saw her standing and pacing away. He shed the bothersome feeling. _Not the time for idle mercy. _This was still his captor, who had beaten and restrained him. And yet, she had not revealed the elf-stone to her betters. It was merely the whisper of a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Daro a vaetho" = Remain and fight (Sindarin)
> 
> "Gin iallon" = I beg of you (Sindarin)
> 
> "West, west away, the round sun is falling" - Legolas' Song of the Sea, The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter IV: "The Field of Cormallen"


	7. Confess your purpose

Kal walked side by side with the captive as the company marched ahead over the miry road. Once this path did not exist but Mordor had cut through much of Ithilien and parts of it now lay barren. Even the trees began to wither, owing to the fumes and debris of industry. Kal kept her scimitar drawn and her attention on the odd creature who now walked with his gaze set downward. Though grating, her thoughts were muddled by her latest words with the elf.

_Someone who cares for you._

It was difficult to imagine and contain the concept. The very word _care _used in reference to another had left Kal more than a little confused, try though she did to hide it at the time. One cared about their weapon, one cared not to fall ill or be cut down in battle. One cared to receive as little punishment as possible. Kal thought back to her earliest years, in a past not far removed. To her early childhood her thoughts meandered. To the debilitating work in the fields of Núrn in the east of Mordor, where she first swam in the dark waters of the Sea of Núrnen. She had never seen water before, and the feel of it on her skin had been a discovery in itself. She had also received enough beatings to pay for the transgression. That was where she first beheld humankind and noticed they had much in common with the orc. Her memories turned to the time the half-orc came to serve in the alchemy halls. Kal shuddered, her skin pricking involuntarily. Then followed the bloody fights and training earning her a place in the armies. Most of those whom the half-orc had encountered, be they human, orc or Uruk-hai, she had grown to hate. And all of them were linked to one painful memory or another. Nowhere could she find such as the elf had described.

_Friend._

She looked at the prisoner again. Their capture appeared worse for wear than before, his steps somewhat indecisive but the elf still held his own. That shadowed mien remained, and he looked clearly out of place among this motley crew. The half-orc had little time left to deal with her task before they reached Mordor or Gurthok took matters in his own hands. The pendant felt warm hidden against her skin, an unusual sensation as Kal had never owned any sort of precious adornments before. She thought to try and speak to the elf again when they soon set camp. Last time their interaction had consisted mostly of words, not blows, and that kindled a determination to try more of the same.

As Kal looked upon the skies, murky with soot from the towers and smithies, her thoughts took her to the alchemy halls where the turnings mainly took place. The elf would meet a painful end, of that she was certain. The newly made orc and Uruk-hai were also different from their kin in existence before the War was won. They were even more cruel and inflexible to words or counsel, following solely the will of the Dark One. Kal had never known freedom in the way the Men of the West had, indeed she had little notion of it and thus bemoaned it not, but to lose one's former self in such a way still made the young soldier fretful and uneasy.

When they ceased their march fires were lit anew and Kal once more took her place guarding the human prisoners, checking their numbers and the state of the cage. They looked more wayworn than before, and the smell she had become so accustomed to permeated the air. In passing she noticed a woman holding a sleeping child to her breast. The child who had begged for water many days before. The woman was weeping.

Kal averted her gaze and proceeded with slow steps towards a rough wooden carriage carrying various objects and supplies. There she retrieved a small crudely hewn bowl and turned to her leather bag, drawing her water pouch. Looking around and ensuring the more probing of the beasts were busy or out of sight, she filled the bowl with water. The half-orc had been forced into at least three fights throughout her life owing to her use of water. The orc and Uruk-hai needed it not and scornfully referred to the clear life-giving liquid as a necessity of the weaker races, resorting instead to a thick black fluid that tasted of grime and smelled of decay. It ultimately provided enough strength for the drinker to weather entire days of toil and travel, but it always left her feeling ill and confused. And being ill in Mordor came as a death sentence. Kal had been forced to drink of the horrid fluid herself when she was young and not as capable in defending herself, also partly due to the fact that freshwater was hard to come by in the inner recesses of the Tower.

Preoccupied with these thoughts Kal found herself standing in front of the elf once more, who raised his unnerving gaze to look at her listlessly. The half-orc turned to assess the groups of orc behind her once before tilting the water-filled bowl towards the elf. "Thirsty?"

His eyes narrowed.

She sighed in vexation. "Tomorrow we should reach the Black Land and your fate will be forfeit. Will you continue to sulk in silence? If you offer me answers I will grant you a swift end."

The elf shook his head, regaling the half-orc with that mocking smile that riled her. "Grand words. Forgive me if I fail to take them to heart, considering your actions thus far."

His words incensed her mood. "This is the lay of the land. If you wanted to keep your life you should have kept your distance. But in your infinite wisdom, you went ahead of yourself and now here you are."

"You know nothing of the land," the elf added quietly, though his eyes were steely.

Kal huffed, deciding to spill the water at her feet once more for this insolence. But then she could do nothing but admire his bravery when faced with certain demise. She crouched down before this unusual creature, water bowl still in hand. Her voice came lower. "I do not think you realize the full meaning of what will be done to you."

The elf averted his eyes.

"You will be neither living nor dead, elf. But this you will not even perceive as a mindless tool bent to His will."

"I see you are well acquainted with this yourself," the other hissed, dripping scorn lacing the words.

Kal growled but resisted the temptation to resort to violence again. "I come to you with water and reasoning, yet you insist on making this difficult."

"Your water should be put to better use," the elf muttered, his gaze turned from her towards the cage. "That woman's child is dying."

Kal followed his gaze towards the human prisoners and recalled the sleeping child. What was the elf's purpose with this? "You would decline aid for the sake of a human whelp?"

The half-orc felt striking eyes on her, and she was astonished to see no resent in them. Instead, there was something else, but its meaning was foreign to her. "They need it more than I," the elf followed, and Kal was unnerved at the intensity with which her prisoner looked at her as he spoke.

She pondered. "If I grant your request, will you confess your purpose?"

The elf sighed. "Better yet I might have shown you, but I am slightly hindered at the moment," he added derisively, and his words again sounded strange to her.

"Speak plainly, will you?" the half-orc spewed impatiently.

"You shall have your answers," the other conceded after a while.

Kal looked him over. "First I would like to hear them."

She was startled by his short, melodious but bitter laugh. The elf shook his head. "I have been observing your numbers, attempting to assess the frequency with which you move in and out of the Shadowlands and the extent of your travels."

"Why for?" she pursued.

"After you give the child water."

Deciding there was little harm in that, Kal went over to the cage where the child lay weakened, and looking carefully over her shoulder the half-orc struck the bars with her scimitar, pretending to chasten the prisoners while her hand reached and pushed the bowl into the hands of the child's mother. The woman barely grasped it and looked upon the she-orc with wide tired eyes. Kal moved away from the cage without another glance and turning, she noticed the elf watching her. She walked to where he lay in bonds and threw herself heavily upon the ground before him, legs crossed, drawing a short dagger from her boot. "Speak. Why were you gathering intelligence on us?"

"Your speech is different from the others," the prisoner remarked, causing her to frown.

"We are not discussing me," Kal placed the tip of her dagger under his chin for emphasis.

"Simply, one can not help but notice," the elf added with a glimmer in his eye, irking her further.

"Speak of your intent!" the dagger tip was pressed further into the pale skin.

"I was to attempt and set your capture free," he said quietly, finally, and Kal realized the elf was speaking of the humans.

"Why?" the question escaped her as the half-orc lowered her dagger.

"Why?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I have never known one to welcome a life of thralldom in the service of Mordor."

Kal was confused. "You describe life itself."

"Perhaps life as you know it, but that is no life to live," the elf retorted, his words drifting. "And it was not so once," he added as an afterthought.

Kal had shifted to sit beside the prisoner, her back resting against the tree trunk. She absently took the jewel out, moving it between her fingers and staring at the green sheen. "But you failed," she murmured as to herself.

The elf was silent for a long while. He sighed. "I was too bold, too foolish," she finally heard, and turned to look at him.

"I surmise you wish to die before reaching the Black Land," Kal put forward.

"You surmise well." He was somewhere else.

"Tomorrow, at dawn," the half-orc said after a time, thinking she would do the task and then report to Gurthok. This way, there was no danger of the Uruk commander changing his mind with regards to the prisoner. Kal might have questioned the reason she opted to heed the elf's wish. But it mattered little either way. His kind had no place in the current order.

The prisoner spoke no more, but when the half-orc rose and returned to her post, the elf followed her with his gaze. Then, looking down his eye was caught by a green glimmer, and to his left where Kal had sat beside him, the elf saw the jewel, just in reach of his fingers.

* * *

Kal slept very little as a rule. It was a most unwise endeavor when traveling with a company such as theirs and even more foolish when given the responsibility of guarding prisoners. And yet this particular night a fitful sleep took her as the half-orc sat propped against a tree where she could easily view her charges, her body garnering much-needed strength.

Kal thought the strong grip on her neck was the remnant of yet another night vision, but when her eyes flew open a palm swiftly covered her mouth. A clean, freshly scented but strong palm. For one brief moment Kal would have shrieked, thinking herself back at the mercy of the alchemists within the Tower, but as reality struck the half-orc saw it was all even worse. Grey eyes glistened catlike in the darkness.

"Nothing but complete silence and obedience will save your life," the elf hissed as he kept her trapped, and Kal felt him reach and retrieve the dagger she had placed in her boot. It found its way to her neck, and the half-orc had difficulty breathing with his knee pressed to her ribs. "Do as I command, and you might earn back the right to your filthy life," the elf whispered. Amber eyes only watched him, amazement and anger weaved within. "Now, rise slowly, and produce the keys to the cage," he tilted his head towards the prisoners, some of which had seen what was afoot. They stood quiet, frightened, and hopeful.

Slowly and struggling weakly under his grip, Kal did as was bid. He was strong, she thought belatedly. After all those days that would have broken any human, the elf held her fast in a ruthless iron hold as few Uruk could. It seemed these folk were of a different ilk to humans altogether. One mistake the half-orc would never make again if she survived this.

The elf mostly dragged her to the cage, his hand still pressed to her mouth. "Open it," he growled.

She hesitated. The blade of the dagger closed on her flesh, and Kal struggled desperately until beads of red began trickling down her neck. She knew her fate could easily be sealed either way. Gurthok would have her head and yet, dying now in the middle of the night at the hands of an elf was not how Kal envisioned her end. And the bastard would surely keep his promise by the look in those eyes. So the half-orc reached inside the leather pouch hanging at her belt and retrieved a large uneven key. She unlocked the cage and felt the dagger disappear from her throat as the elf made a gesture into a direction for the humans to silently take.

The elf followed with Kal and she felt him draw closer as he stood behind her, keeping her pinned in his hold. "Gratitude for your aid," he spoke then, and Kal wondered if there was derision or honesty in his speech. She also wondered where the aid had come from and her role in it.

For reasons unknown the elf released his grip over her mouth, and Kal's first impulse was to bristle at him. "You have an odd way of showing it!" Then she cursed him well and good in the Black Speech. Still, she did not shriek for the others and later would wonder why she had not.

"I will not end you," the elf growled lowly into her ear then and whirled her to face him, "The debt is paid." The last Kal saw was a glimpse of his features before his hand shot to her neck in a swift motion, causing a curious torpor and her knees to go weak. Then her eyes were closing, and blackness took her. She had not felt his arms supporting her as the half-orc descended to the ground.

His gaze swept over her still form before the elf shifted, moving as swift as a shadow within the darkened wood.

When she opened her eyes Kal was splayed onto the ground. With recent memories flooding her mind, she scrambled to the tree the elf had been tied to and saw the meaning of his words. The bonds were raggedly cut. Kal cursed her decision to use rope instead of the iron cuffs.

Her eyes feverishly scraped over the empty spot, and a glimmer caught her eye. Crouching down, the half-orc saw the familiar winged shape and shine. Her hand shot to her neck, and found it bare. Her eyes widened. She had forgotten about this. Hastily she retrieved the object for closer inspection, finding the edges to be quite sharp. _Curse you!_

Well, at least he was now bereft of his trinket, as little as that mattered to her. It was not long before heavy steps thundered towards her, a cadence familiar and dreaded. Kal closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before being flung into the eye of the storm.


	8. Of land bereaved

She hated elves. This was the sole thought thrashing through her mind as her head was forced underwater again. The forest resounded with their growling, some for mirth and some for anger. They had been doing this all morning since Gurthok decided Kal was to be punished for her failure to guard the human prisoners and the elf. He spat in her face, and then gave the rest leave to do with her as they would. And Kal had lost count of how many times they held her head submerged in an old wooden barrel until such time she nearly drowned, before being lifted for a desperate breath. Hoarse laughter could be heard all around her.

"Here, more of that water ya like so much," one called Bugluz hissed, his greyish-yellow claws caught in her hair, painful against her scalp.

"A wily one, likin' to bathe and wearin' herself like she was one of 'em skinny weaklings that glowed in the night," Kroznak hissed.

"Maybe that was why she let' em go! Tell us Kal, yearnin' for some of that elf shaft, eh?" another short and stout orc asked, tracing a forked tongue over its chapped grey lips.

Kal struggled to no avail as her head was flung beneath the water again. Of all the ways she could have ended. All because of _him_. This could not be it. There had to be more to this life, she stubbornly thought as the half-orc nearly swooned from the lack of air again. But she was shortly pulled upward once more with a painful tug to the sounds of her former companions cackling. Now they were her jailers, and she less than dirt.

Kroznak drew into her face as she was panting for air in their hold. "Kal, remember what I told ya, not long ago?", he grinned as her eyes widened. "One day I'd have ya beggin' for it. Well," and he looked to a broad-shouldered Uruk grinning harshly her way, "After Karzur is done with you, I believe ya shall," and with all her struggles the band of three remaining orc began to drag her away from the camp, even as she kicked and thrashed. The half-orc did not wish them to hear her wailing, knowing it would only bring them pleasure as all such acts did, but it was a lost fight.

"Let's see which one of us will make'er squeal louder," Kroznak growled as he held her fast by the shoulders from behind, and cut at her tunic while Kal fought and struck them with her legs like a wild beast, and a fey light was in her eyes.

"An' let's see if she guesses who's who," Bugluz added, using a torn piece of her garment to blindfold Kal. Memories of claws roaming over her in debasing scorn burst through her mind, and she shrieked and thrashed and struggled. She kicked at her assailants to no avail as rough limbs trapped hers, lifting her to one of the orc.

_No, no, no!_ Kal thought desperately, and her only wish was to at least be hewn down shortly after. The dread such actions caused fueled a deeper anguish, and the half-orc struggled with all her remaining strength so they could barely hold her straight.

"Ak! Slit her throat ear to ear Kroznak, she won't stop twitchin," one fumed and Kal heard the sound of a blade being drawn.

"No!" she yelled, though a part of her deemed it best, and Kal readied herself for the forever blackness when suddenly the crowing and cackling around her turned to heaving growls. Kal listened and at once fell to the ground roughly, hitting her head against a jagged rock. Her senses went misty, but the half-orc could hear muffled sounds and then felt the ground shake with the fall of bodies. She counted three. Kal swiftly rose to her knees, struggling against her bonds as she did. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in front of her.

Kal had noticed one aspect of herself during her years among the inhabitants of Mordor: she had better hearing than most humans or orc kind, and better yet than the Uruk-hai in the worst of weather. She could detect the weight, strength, and frame of a being by the mere sound of their approach. Yet now, Kal strained her hearing to hear nothing.

"Who goes there?" she hissed in question, knowing someone, something, must be in close vicinity. She felt the change in the air from barely perceptible movements. Only late did she hear another heartbeat.

Then her blindfold was fluidly lifted from her eyes and Kal nearly fell back to the ground when she saw the sharp features of the elf who escaped her charge not long ago, now kneeling before her.

"You!" Kal accused irately though she was indeed astonished. Her body tilted forward menacingly as the half-orc regarded the cause of all her recent misery. Then she felt a familiar stench and looked about them, and noticed the fallen orc with their throats slit expertly in clear movements.

"Do you have the stone?" the elf queried swiftly, causing her gaze to stray back to him.

Kal looked sternly into light eyes, glinting in the darkened wood. "Yes!" she bristled, "But do not even think to-," she both yelped and cursed in surprise when Kal was sharply wrenched and lifted off her feet, landing propped over an unrelenting shoulder. Her struggling and kicking proved fruitless. And she was ever so weary of struggle now, after the intense toil of resisting the others. What could an elf do to her which was worse than Gurthok's orcs? It was a meager form of relief as Kal fought weakly against him. Still, she had to admit the creature was nimble in his steps, considering his added burden.

Kal felt her world shifting and turning when she was nearly thrown on her feet roughly as the elf ceased his trek. She presumed to now be outside the nearest whereabouts of the Uruk camp.

"Now you must run," the elf looked her sharply in the eye. At her silence and continued glare, he followed, "Unless you wish to return to them, that is."

The words were spoken in a chill tone rivaling the shrill echoes of the Tower in her mind. How she loathed him. "Which way?" Kal asked despite her thought, all the while feeling her pride crumbling in on itself for depending on one such as..._ it._

The elf regarded her intently and just as Kal grew impatient he motioned with his arm towards the path to take, which she hastily turned to. "Wait," he followed and unceremoniously whirled Kal around, causing her to curse for the suddenness of the movement. In the following instant, she saw the dagger the half-orc had owned in his hand. Her eyes widened, unsure what to expect from this being so foreign and new to all she knew. Did the elf lure her into a place of safety only to take revenge for her past treatment of him? There was an unsettling, fey glimmer in that strange gaze. _He is nothing__ but an elf_, she steeled herself. _His kind are mostly__ gone; a lost, weakened race, _Kal recalled from one of the few hours of learning where _he_ would speak of things other than what she knew. And he would tell her of orc, and elf and other creatures that dwelt in the world. The sound of her bonds being cut brought her back to the present, and looking down the half-orc saw the rope fall to the ground.

She looked up into his face, unsure what to do or think-

"Follow me," the elf urged as he passed by her, taking the lead. Not once did he look back to see if the half-orc would come. And Kal was tempted to take another path once or twice as they went yet somehow she delayed the thought each time, thinking another, better chance would present itself.

After a few good hours of traveling in such fashion, she was still struggling alongside the elf, running for her life and hoping Gurthok had not caught the scent of their trail. She could defeat a few of them but was not so foolish to confront an entire company of angry orcs on her tail. And if there was one feature of orcs that was the most dangerous to all, it was the thirst for revenge. Nothing could abate them once the blood lust took hold. And then there was the elf. She looked in front to her right, where he speedily and gracefully avoided obstacles of fen and bough in their way. Kal had never seen such agility on any creature of Mordor. Then, she thought of how much she had not seen of this world. So much that lay inscribed into the moldy, poisonous scrolls and manuscripts of the alchemists' library in the dark fortress she had slaved in. Odd things she had read about in the stolen hours within the darkened corners of the library. If she escaped the wrath of her kind and Mordor never again caught tidings of her whereabouts, could she do her mind's bidding? Just then this trail of thought was interrupted as the elf ceased their hurried pace and motioned for her to follow him.

The grey-green trees in the area were bereft of once rich crowns, but there was much underbrush sealing the fugitives from sight. Kal followed quietly until the pair reached a glade, or what had once been such. Now the grass lay flat and dying, and the trees once strong and wide now stood curled and bent, their boughs tinted copper with the debris wafting from the industries of Mordor. But this only the elf knew, for Kal had not seen the outer world before the fall. To her, the sight was all there ever was.

"Here we can stay but for a short while," the elf broke the silence. He then turned to her, throwing his grey cloak on one side as he extended an open palm towards her. "The jewel," he demanded, his voice sharp and cutting.

Kal narrowed her eyes. The gall on him. "What is the actual reason you seek it with such fervor?"

The elf slowly retrieved his hand. "There is no time for this. Will you surrender it, or no?"

She looked at him defiantly, a reminder of his own stubborn silence.

"I saved your life," the elf then added scathingly, the tension in his body visible through his stance as he took one step towards Kal.

"And yet, it is due to none other that I am now a fugitive in the truest sense and a dead one at best. I have lost it all, my place in the order of things because of you, you...blasted elf!" Kal spewed, her frustration adding steel to the words.

They stared at each other for a while, her eyes of molten gold boring into his.

His expression was unchanged. "A fell, and wicked order. An order killing the land, tormenting its peoples. If that is your wont, then, by all means, head back to your brethren and make merry with them. But you will hand over the pendant_._"

Kal felt her body go taut, her senses sharpened with readiness for battle. She was weaponless but that had not stopped her before. Driven by a strong, relentless wish for the elf to not have his way, she went into stance.

The other sighed and shook his head, and to Kal he looked wearier than before. In passing she noticed the scarring on his face, the scrapes nearly healed. The elf approached in elegant, even strides as the two began circling one another. He unclasped his cloak. Kal saw him discard the dagger_, her_ dagger, to the side. She found it unusual. Did one not fight with all they had when forced to do so?

Recalling his strength when the elf had been her prisoner, the half-orc anticipated just how deadly this one could prove to be. And indeed she had no choice but to defend when the elf was upon her as fast as a storm upon the Mountains of Shadow, and Kal knew this would be no trifle of a fight.

None managed a clear advantage and after a while, Kal felt herself grow weary, her movements slightly slower than she would have liked. She tried a few elusive triangles in her footwork which normally worked well on the orc folk, but to her chagrin, this one was ever one step ahead. He deftly and infuriatingly balanced out of her path, nearly catching an opening twice. And then, just as Kal attempted what she thought was a sudden knee strike the elf caught her foot and struck his palm hard against her ribs, causing the half-orc to gasp for breath and fall back staggering. Then her feet were thrust from under her and her body struck the ground in a painful heap.

"This is quite familiar," her opponent mocked as he hovered with his hand pinning Kal down by her neck, his other hand twisting her arms above her head.

Kal felt a bright, burning shame at the defeat, by one such as he no less. If one elf could cause so much trouble Kal was not at all surprised the Dark One chose to be relieved of their bothersome plight.

The fair-haired bane leaned closer to her face until Kal could discern the faint lines engraved in his light irises, and the scars on his face where she had struck him. Fate ran a curious mettle. Then she felt his hand moving around her neck, delving under the ripped collar of her tunic. Coarse, warm fingers moved deftly and the elf retrieved the familiar argentine glow, placing it back within his tunic, his mien dark and foreboding. He then swiftly sprang to his feet. He spared no more words but briskly turned and retrieved his dagger and cloak, before leaving the glade and Kal behind in a sprinted step.

Though still irate and no less humiliated, Kal was not a little dismayed. The full meaning of a new, unsought for life sank in. For the first time, she was on her own. She was to do what none expected of her but herself. A strange, frightening notion to be sure, and one long beaten out of her. Or had it been? Then Kal saw herself bereft of not only land, but also direction and purpose. This newfound condition suddenly swelled in magnitude and weighed as heavily as iron mountains.

And where was _he _going?

The half-orc grimly gazed after the retreating figure of the nameless elf. Barely visible now, his frame was soon swallowed by the forest as he disappeared amidst the trees. With her eyes swift enough to see him Kal weighed a fast and steep scale. Then, half willing and half loath, she followed.


	9. Reached by the frost

All was silent, but for the wailing of the winds without. Lightning struck with blinding force across the skies of Mordor. It might have been dusk in the Black Land, but he was never certain. Daylight here was akin to a never ending twilight, and no sun nor its path could ever be discerned. Bound to his cold stone seat he had little choice but to gaze upon the view before him. To look and ponder. Over blackened plains lined with heavy industries, and tainted by creatures unnumbered swarming to do the bidding of their master. To gaze in the distance, where the Ephel Dúath rose tall against reddened skies. The scent of putrefaction and burnt coal filled the air no matter the height of the tower which rose strong and ominous above the land.

Marred fumes wafted high above, at times burning and drying his already aged skin further with their poison. The man sighed in memory. Signs of age marred his once fair and noble face. His long hair was a mottled gray, his beard long and untended. A tattered tabard adorned his weakened body where the worn image of a white tree was etched. His eyes, presently dulled with sorrow and guilt, appeared as if they may have been blue once. As he stood tied to the highest terrace of the tower he wondered, as oft was his wont. He wondered at those who have survived, if any, and of their fates. He always wondered with dread and grief, and not a little anger, why the Great Ones have abandoned Middle-earth those many years ago. At times he pondered whether perhaps, such was the written fate of the world. But it had never felt so, and what he had seen here was nothing if not proof. Again he thought of them, of her.

At once the fumes grew thicker, the air fouler for the grey-haired man began to cough uncontrollably. Just as he was regaining his breath the heavy black metal doors to the terrace were opened with a sharply drawn sound to reveal a new presence. The newcomer was flanked by two orcs garbed in mail who then turned and were away, the doors closing behind them.

The prisoner showed no outer emotion concerning the event as the new presence crossed the wide space with light even steps, his soundless black booted feet leading him forward.

This one stood taller than perhaps any being in Middle-earth, and his face was pale and fair to look upon. Long hair of a russet shade ran in waves down his back, and eyes of amber looked ahead as he came to stand at the side of the seated man. His fair form was a reminiscence of the days of old, and once he had regained that which was rightfully his, he had returned to it. His bearing was regal and strong, and deceptively open. That was until one saw his eyes. Beams of molten flame that not even his highest servants dared to look upon lest they be burned to ash.

"Well met, my friend," a low, strangely metallic yet melodious voice addressed the old man.

The other remained silent but for another fit of coughing, his gaze set afar.

The russet-haired one turned his head to look upon the other then, and his eyes were terrible. "Your companions, the dark-haired twins died yesterday in the slave quarters." If not for his unbeatable hearing, he might have missed the swift sigh of the other. "I thought it my duty to personally impart the tidings."

A long silence followed, broken only by the billowing of his black robes in the wind.

"They have both been quite brave to the end, enduring what they did in the mines. Alas," he pondered facetiously, "The Firstborn have always suffered from this flaw. Hard to bend though delightful to punish, and oft-times falling prey to their self-adulation and pride."

The old man said nothing, though his eyes were reddened and his fists clenched on the arms of the seat where his hands were cuffed. His legs were bound in a similar manner.

Seemingly undeterred at the monologue nature of the conversation, the pale one continued. "Twenty-five of your years have passed since the great mockery at the Gate. I still recall your regal, impudent bearing when you struck upon my gates, and demanded I surrender. " His flaming eyes focused to the East, where a storm of lightning bolts hit the skies and brushed the mountain tops. A long, pale hand motioned to the seated man. "And now look at you," he said with venom in his voice. "But the long life of your line does well by you. Though weakened, I surmise you and I will have a few more good years to spend together."

The prisoner then opened his mouth to speak. "Not all... that have fallen," another coughing fit, "...are vanquished," the old man spoke then, his voice harsh and rough with disuse.

The other narrowed his eyes, a frightening grin spreading across his face to reveal straight, white teeth. "A king may yet be without crown," he recited the known following verse. "How true that is. For here you stand, once Aragorn Elessar, the hope of his people, without crown and all else, a shadow of your former self and a shame to your legacy. My prisoner. And long have I searched for you in the before days. Now tell me, what should we see today? Should you wish to see what befell Rohan again? Or perhaps the fall of Minas Tirith?" he tapped his chin with a reddish clawed finger.

The one once called Aragorn grimaced, for the first time his eyes revealing a sort of trepidation, the memory of these violations of mind and spirit still fresh. Each time he was bound here the Dark One would come and force upon him visions of the world as he knew it, changing, being wrought by his dark thought and power.

The Shadow was behind him then, and the old man felt ice-cold hands gripping his head, boring painfully into his mind. He grinned as the flames in his eyes grew even brighter, a sign that he was focusing his abilities. The simple golden ring on his right forefinger shone brightly against the pale skin. "Lo, the fate of your city!" the metallic voice now grated against his weakened mind, and the man felt his eyes fall to the back of his head as he was flung into the vision.

He found his gaze set upon the fall of the White Tower into flame and ruin. The slaying of its inhabitants through the streets, be they women or children or men. The burning of the White Tree, and the waters stained red with the blood of the fallen in the Court of the Fountain. The slaughtering in the Houses of Healing. He had seen it all so many times before, and yet the anguish it caused never lessened but increased with such strength it broke his spirit a little more.

Then it all changed. His head felt as if it would burst into flames, and behind him, the dark one's eyes burned as wildfire while he fed on the dread of his prisoner.

The weakened man was then faced with the city that had once been the capital of a free land. He saw the factories and smithies, the blackened walls and new, adamant tower resembling Barad-dûr most closely in shape and form. He saw the Easterlings and Haradrim strutting its streets and smithies, lashing at workers in tatters.

"I believe it has been long," Sauron followed, "since I have shown you the ones you failed to protect." And with that, the imagery changed, and a small naked and bloodied creature was writhing in agony in a darkened place, at the mercy of his captors.

"I do treasure our moments together. Little else appeases me so, as having the last descendant of Elendil crumbling and wailing under my grasp. I dare think I shall never tire of it," the Dark One uttered silkily.

Aragorn son of Arathorn was forced to see closer, and despite the swollen face and wounds lacing his body, the mottled curls and wide fearful eyes left no doubt as to who it was. He was then shown the moment those eyes had closed forever.

His piercing cry soared into the skies, carried by the winds over the molten lights of factories below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Not all that have fallen are vanquished/A king may yet be without crown"= lines from an earlier version of the poem "The Riddle of Strider"


	10. Pursuing with weary feet

Kal looked to her left, neither seeing nor hearing a single whisper of life. She had been following the elf or so she thought, for the better part of the late afternoon. And still, there was no sight of him. She kept her senses sharp and was on guard for any presence or possible pursuers. The troublesome being was evading her.

"Blasted creature, where is he?" Kal cursed under her breath as she carefully stepped through the dark forest, her feet nimbly passing over thicket and ivy. She was weary and though used to less than pleasant marching conditions, fatigue was beginning to grip her in its talons. She kept telling herself he cannot have gone that much farther. More time passed in this manner as the half-orc trudged on through the wood. She was now thirsty and her body ached with exertion. At least her hearing discerned nothing afoot. That was well.

"Elf!" she hissed into the quietus before her head swiveled towards a sudden sound to the right of her position.

She stilled, and with narrowed eyes attuned her hearing. The trees swayed under a swift and foul-smelling wind. There had been movement in the underbrush no doubt, which meant it had to be assessed for danger. Death had come from less, as the half-orc well remembered from her days toiling in the fields of Núrn. When slaves would fall with fatigue or hunger the punishment was swift and harsh. A severed tongue was the lightest sanction, but death by whipping was the most common. And they found pleasure in it all. They would gather the others and under pain of death compel them to watch, and many found their end by orc or Southron hand. The bodies would be carried to the pits to be used as fodder for their beasts. The memory left a bitter taste, but as she recalled the present nothing else stirred in the surrounding woods.

Kal focused her vision ahead-

Only to stagger back as she was met face to face with the elf. She released a shamefully sharp cry, to her increasing pique. When had he appeared as silent as a wraith before her?

He wore the usual scowl, eyes boring suspiciously into hers. "Why do you follow?" he demanded.

Kal crossed her arms, though she felt a very slight form of relief that the elf had deemed to reveal himself. "Maybe your long memory has failed you, but I cannot return nor stay here."

He crossed his arms in turn. "And why should that be any concern of mine?" His ruthless frown came in confusing contrast with the light depths of his eyes.

Perhaps a traveling companion such as he would not be the wisest of choices. Kal caught the contemptuous way he gazed at her. There was a silent warning there. Still, she pursued, driven, and duly irritated as she recalled the memory of his knee to her ribcage. "You owe me a path out of this place for my troubles," Kal said boldly, though by the way his eyes clouded, her approach appeared to be lacking. Perhaps elves did not barter as Men did.

He briefly raised an eyebrow before his eyes narrowed again, and he turned away. "What was owed I have paid in full," the elf said coldly, walking ahead, "and beyond," he added as an afterthought, caring little whether she heard him or not.

Truly irked, Kal went after him, stomping at his side some distance away. "You need me here. I know my way through most of this area."

"And what makes you think I do not?" the elf asked sullenly. He was looking ahead as he spoke, clearly refusing to acknowledge an exchange.

Kal hesitated. "I know the Black Speech, and of their ways."

"Truly a gift," the elf muttered tiredly. His frown seemed to only deepen.

She ignored his biting words. "I cannot return to the company. And, I am weaponless, in thanks to you," she hissed. "I am also a fugitive and a deserter, with one, soon to be many Uruk-hai companies alerted of that fact," Kal continued as they walked through the wood, she one step behind. "I will never have a life here."

"You are quite adept at using your fists. I am sure you will survive. Now if you would cease following me," his stride became swifter.

"Aid me out of Ithilien, to somewhere I can travel and be... and be free of this. Of them." Well, at least she was truthful with regards to her motive. There was not much choice either way, save for braving the borders alone. And thinking back to Gurthok, a shudder ran through her. Mercy was a foreign concept in the armies of the Tower. She was following the changes in his expression as she spoke, and saw him quirk an eyebrow at her statement. "That is all I need, and then we can part ways and you will never catch wind of me ever again," Kal tried. Surely, being an elf meant this one had seen much of the world. He would know of such lands.

She blinked when the elf stopped in his tracks with eerie fluidity, and lifted his arm in a gesture signaling silence. "Yrch," he whispered to himself.

"What did you say?" Kal asked confusedly.

"Orc," he repeated without looking at her, his gaze set to whence the intruders were nearing. "They approach. Two of them."

Kal heard them as well, after a short time. She discerned the sharp cut inflection of the Black Speech.

"They have fell-hounds that could catch our scent immediately," he whispered swiftly.

Kal knew the truth of his words, as she had seen what the beasts were capable of. A breed devised after the great war within the confines of Barad-dûr, it had the strongest sense of smell of all others before it. Its viciousness also doubled all others'. They had caught many a slave in their attempts to escape the fields.

"Truly we can dispense with two of them," Kal raised a challenge, her heart drumming and warmth tingling in her ears.

The elf shook his head. "You said so yourself, you are unarmed."

"We have little choice," she hissed back.

His face remained impassive, his gaze thoughtful, calculating. In detached observation Kal again found it strange how his skin bore no blemishes, the scrapes from her previous treatment of him already receding. "Well?" she asked impatiently. The sentries of Mordor made their appearance around the bend, large scimitars adorning their backs. One of them was Uruk-hai. They were growling about a recent skirmish and cursing their superiors, because, as far as they had seen, ineptitude was rife among their leaders. They were accompanied by large hounds with yellow foaming mouths and bulging bloodshot eyes.

"Act as my prisoner!" Kal urged.

"Absolutely not," the elf cut eyes to hers.

"Only to aid us in drawing close enough! Quickly!" she insisted. Why was he being so stubborn?

He glared at her. "To best overwhelm these scourges would mean unleashing upon them from above."

"I am not a sprite!" Kal threw. "I do not scamper through trees."

The elf was losing his patience, she could sense it in his bearing. They had no time to argue further.

"So be it," he conceded tiredly, to her relief.

They made their appearance onto the road, Kal holding the elf locked with his arms behind his back.

The sharp pain in his nose and jaw came swift and sudden. Eyes widening, he felt liquid warmth trailing down his lip. He turned his head to Kal with a murderous gaze just as another strike caught him off guard, and he was being dragged onto the road in a strong grip. "For credibility," she shot as Kal pushed him forward. They had been seen.

The elf looked on, assessing their opponents as Kal greeted the two in Black Speech, and motioned towards him. Both their fanged faces spread into cold grins, and their beastly companions barked uncontrollably.

"What business does ya have'ere, alone and with this one ya say is yer prisoner? And what's the matter with'is ears?" asked the taller of the two. They were one of many patrols set throughout Ithilien.

"This is an elf," she shook him, and the elf none too gently struggled in her grasp, "And I plan to take a handsome reward for his hide. You know these ones make good material for His army."

The guards looked at each other. "Ye yourself don't look much like one of ours..." one of them grinned menacingly. He assessed Kal, seeing she possessed no weapons. "Maybe we seize yer catch, in the name of the Tower. In fact, we will. Hand him over-"

He failed to finish that thought. As fast as lightning the orc's feet were swept from under him, and his last known glimpse of the world was that of ruthless, grey eyes. The blade of the dagger flashed then was retrieved coated in black blood, as Kal struggled to subdue the Uruk with her bare hands.

The elf evaded and fought the two fell-hounds, their barks maddened and their shrieks sudden when their necks were wrung.

"The dagger!" she demanded, straining to keep the beast locked in her hold.

"The Void take ye, ya fucking slut," the Uruk growled, landing a heavy blow below her ribs which forced Kal to loosen her grip.

"Elf!" she hissed as the Uruk freed himself and was about to overwhelm her. His body froze, his eyes went to the back of his head. The elf pulled the dagger from its side, kicking the Uruk to the edge of the path where the creature fell sideways, and was still. Black blood stained the ground.

Panting, Kal looked at the fallen body, then to the elf. She took another breath before a strong grip was on her arms, and Kal was pushed roughly against the closest trunk.

"Strike me again, and it will be your last," he spoke lowly, his words labored as he stared her in the face. And though his breathing was much steadier than hers, his eyes bode ill. She felt bruises forming where his fingers dug into her arms.

He had the right of it. Kal knew deep within, that credibility had been only partly the reason for her actions. She then recalled she might need his aid, and how much stronger than her the elf proved to be. "I will try not to, but cannot give you my word," she winced when he pushed her harder against the trunk, the rough bark digging into her back.

She was tired. Kal struggled angrily under his glare. "Enough," she muttered darkly, a fierce beam flashing in her own eyes.

She saw just how much taller than her the elf was, and it thoroughly displeased her now. After a few moments he released her with a jolt, and turning from her strained to listen. Kal did the same, hearing no sign of new possible perils coming their way. For now.

"See? You need me in Ithilien," she said to his turned back. "Even you must admit this went well. And I know of other things. I know of the Black Land. I know of the ways of the Tower."

Kal saw the elf cease his steps, standing still as death a few paces away from her. She waited.

Finally, she heard him speak. "I will allow you to follow to the fringes of this land, after which we part ways."

It was strange, to feel the stirring in her chest. The corners of her mouth were turning upward. She had seen this expression on none but the alchemists of the Tower, but more often than not it was accompanied by different acts of cruelty. She went to stand by his side.

"Then we are... agreed?"

The elf looked sideways at her. "Hinder me, lead me for one moment to believe that you are a spy, show any form of fell intent and I will not hesitate to do what I had not before."

Kal nearly scoffed at the preposterous notion, but his hardened mien showed her the elf fully intended to follow with his threat. Another putrid wind and ash blew through the forest, sending yellowing leaves flying onto the road.

"My sole intent is to escape this place," she said honestly.

The elf merely gaped at Kal for a short while before pacing ahead once more. He knelt and brushed the blade of the dagger against the rusted grass.

"Will you give me back my weapon?" she tried.

"No," came the curt reply.

_Curse you. _With a groan she did not even attempt to hide, Kal returned and drew the scimitar off the fallen Uruk before following after the retreating figure. Kal realized she never learned his name, for obvious reasons. Perhaps it was time. Surely elves had names? "I am Kal," she said to him.

"So I have heard," the elf muttered as Kal fell in step with him.

Or, perhaps elves did not value names, as such. "What of your name?"

There was a pause. The blades of grass and leaves onto the forest bed wailed with crunching sounds beneath them. The elf appeared strangely absorbed by this, his head lowered as he stalked forward stiffly. "It does not matter. Not anymore."


	11. A Truce in the Forest

They carried the distance for the better part of the day. Kal would cut through dying bush and undergrowth with the newly acquired scimitar, while the elf oft times followed darting between trees. He did so with such unusual grace the half-orc could not help but gape with a certain amount of intrigue and resent. At one point she saw him land soundlessly ahead of her.

"Which way are we heading?" Kal decided to ask.

"We follow south of here until we reach a stream. Then we follow that stream to the river."

The river. This was good, to have a sense of their destination. They would have to be wary of orc patrols and the scouting companies to pass through unseen. How that was to be achieved, Kal did not know.

Once grey evening fell the air became colder. The skies beyond the peaks of the Ephel Dúath glowed infused with the red lights below, where the industries of Mordor churned.

Kal saw the elf climb one particular tree, so high she barely distinguished him through its crown. He then dropped to the ground with the same grace as before, holding what looked like a longbow. A blackened quiver with a number of arrows was strung across his back. A small satchel with a long strap was in his other hand, which he threw across his shoulder. He must have passed this way before and hidden his wares here. Kal made no comment.

"Have you traveled into Ithilien before?" she asked, her curiosity the winner.

"Yes," came the short reply.

Not one of many words was he. Kal looked ahead of them and saw the forests of North Ithilien gaining a menacing and foreboding aura as darkness began to gather in the wood. Kal would have sorely welcomed a respite from the trek. She began to stumble but her eyes still watched the shadowed wood for any peril. She did not recognize this area and wondered whether their company of orc had ever passed through here. Were they reaching the edge of her known travels? Her world? Admittedly, she had not been on as many missions through the land, but the elf needed not to know that.

"Do you intend to halt for the night?" she posed the question to her companion as they fell into swift steps together.

"Soon," he spoke after a few moments.

She noticed the nervousness and ever present tension in his entire body. The elf moved like a shadow, ready to spring into battle at any sign of peril. She had to admit the way this one bore himself was somewhat impressive, compared to what she had seen before. Then Kal oft times felt his eyes on her and the unveiled suspicion in them. He was wary of her. Understandably so, since Kal was not entirely sure she could cease looking over her shoulder either, and sharpened her senses from time to time if only to know of his whereabouts. After all, they had been on different sides and still were. Were they not?

No, she belonged to no side now, Kal pondered. That part of her life was over and done with, and the half-orc was prepared to meet whatever else the outside world would bring. But first, she had to be free of the world she knew.

"Here," the elf whispered after yet some time as they reached a copse of trees with mangled trunks and lowered branches.

Kal wasted no time falling heavily down onto the ground at the base of one tree. She sighed with weariness. Her eyes could see well enough in the darkness and the half-orc saw the elf ascend another nearby tree within sight.

Her thoughts drifted away. This was her first night when she was no thrall. The first of many to come, Kal hoped. The half-orc had been bound all her life, but somehow this new state came easier, and she rather preferred to see where it would lead. Though hunger and thirst would not leave her be, there were no whips, no threats, no Uruk-hai to hackle and prod her. Only the elf. Her thoughts strayed to her unlikely companion again, and how she heard not a wisp of breath from him though she knew the morose creature was within range. And did he not eat? On the morrow, they would have to search for some form of nourishment. Or at least she would. She had seen his features were sharpened by what surely was a sparse and lacking life, and the half-orc reasoned he was weakened as well by all the recent events, though it had little influence on his strength it seemed. But his frame, though taller and stronger in appearance than hers, was still possibly thinner than what used to be. That was if one were to judge by the slight fit of his garb.

Kal caught herself. Why dwell on these things? None of it mattered. Survival mattered, and she had to keep her wits about her. Other threats lay hidden on the way of their journey. With these thoughts, her eyes became heavier, and she drifted into rest. But as with many nights before, her mind would not relent. Visions of long pale hands holding her down behind locked chambers came swiftly, and then she was shrieking and begging. The only times in known memory when the half-orc had pleaded like a craven.

"Please!" Kal cried as her eyes flew open to the darkness. Her brow was slick with beads of cold, fearful sweat, her heart racing so fast she had to stand to her feet to regain herself. There was silence all around. She was in the wood, not the darkness of a cell. There were no adamant walls closing in on her. She released a heavy sigh, slumping slightly with her head bent into her chest.

"Is it your intent to alert every orc patrol in the area?" came a calm though clipped voice from somewhere above, startling her further. The elf.

"A... vision," Kal retorted breathlessly, unsure and not caring whether her words were heard. It took a few good moments for her to still. It would still be dark for some time and she was past the point of fatigue. She had no choice but to try and resume her rest, while hoping the past would cease its ambush.

A cold, bitter fog filled the grey morning, breathing through the crowns of trees stained with soot. Someone shook her heartily, and when she opened her eyes Kal saw the elf standing to her left, his brow furrowed.

"We move," he told her, straightening when she began to stir and look about her. Kal then felt something drop near her feet. She sleepily looked to see what it was and recognized roots of some sort. One was round in shape and reddish in color, with flat yellowed leaves. The other was long and thin in appearance and of a light brown hue with long leaves sprouting from its base.

"What is this?" Kal asked blearily, feeling her body incredibly stiff and hurting as she moved.

"That one is food," he pointed to the larger root. "The other is for the nightmares," the elf explained. "Eat from it before your rest." And with that, he turned his back on her.

"Nightmares?" Kal asked, confused. She knew the common tongue well, from her early years among the slaves in the fields. This was a novel word.

"Whatever makes you cry out in the night," she heard his voice from afar as the elf went to retrieve his quiver.

This was strange. Kal looked suspiciously at the offerings, unsure whether she could trust them, or him. She knew nothing of these roots, had never seen their like before. In the end, she placed the thin root under her belt and rose with the other in hand.

"How do I?..." Kal wondered as she inspected its hard skin, root in hand. It was heavy.

The elf approached and took the root from her. He produced the dagger and sliced through it, returning the halves to her.

Kal saw its inner color was a deep, blood red. "Do you not want it?"

He shook his head.

Kal looked at the root again with narrowed eyes.

"If I wanted to be rid of you," came the derisive statement, "I would have done it sooner, and with less trouble."

Kal looked to see the elf watching her, a haughty smile pulling at his lips. It reminded her of the time he sat bound to a tree, withstanding her prodding and violence with infuriating steadfastness. She felt strangely cowed by it all now, and unsettling pressure caught in her chest. It made her feel as if... as if she was beholden to him. Kal bit down on the root. It was sweet and slightly sour, surprisingly juicy. It was good.

"How do you know of this? Here?" Kal hastened to ask as she fell in step with the elf. Nothing grew in the trees, the land yielded no crops in its withered state. Not that the orc cared much, but she had always preferred the diet humans were partial to as opposed to that of the dark race.

"Skills acquired long ago," came the reply, bringing her out of her thoughts.

She was about to ask just how long ago that was but decided to not dwell on it in the end.

They traveled for a good portion of the day. Kal had to go take care of her needs and broke away somewhere to the left. After some time she followed the path back to the direction the elf had told her to take when a known scent assailed her senses. The scent of dungeons, death, and deep pits. The smell of blood and entrails. She drew her weapon and sharpened her hearing, taking careful steps. Her eyes followed the forest floor until they fell upon a large still mass. As she came to stand before it, Kal saw it was the carcass of a large beast. It was grey, its fur thick and bloodied. Almost as large as a warg. Its eyes were half open and milky, devoid of life. A dire wolf. This was astonishing indeed, for seldom did unspoiled creatures of the forest venture so close to the Black Land. There was little sustenance for them here.

Kal looked closer. Its neck bore wounds and markings, signs of battle with what must have been a much larger beast. Kal saw other wounds of similar ilk along its side and underbelly. The blood was fresh. Kal felt a sliver of regret for the creature who ventured in these lands, unknowing of their dangers. Just then there was a stir beneath the still carcass and Kal took two steps back, readying her scimitar. Was it not dead after all? There was movement again, and soon Kal saw the tip of a small nose protrude from beneath the folds of bloodied fur. Her eyes widened when she saw the nose emerge further, attached to a small head with grey fur and tiny ears. Slight and mewling sounds filled her ears as the cub managed to pull its weight out from under the fallen wolf. It proceeded to sniff and poke and tremble as it nudged the head and maw of the dead animal, whimpering dejectedly.

Unsure what to do, Kal stood there entranced. It was so tiny. "You there," she called to the grey bundle, who noticed her finally and took to approach. Once at her feet, it threw itself down, turning on its back with its belly exposed. Its eyes were somewhere between grey and blue. This was a predicament. She could very well leave, but somehow leaving the creature to fend on its own did not sit well with her. Then Kal heard another stir in the surrounding wood and whirled around, nearly tripping over the cub.

The stench of decay filled the area. Before her stood an immense fell bear, its sluggish movements stealthy. Its brown fur sparsely covered the welts on its body, and half of its maw was marred by putrefaction. An effect of the poison and waste shrouding the lands in the immediate vicinity of Mordor. Creatures fell ill but instead of perishing turned into beasts neither living nor dead. Most of the time they were rabid and violent, and it was best to dispose of them before an imminent attack. She had seen one or two of these unfortunate beasts before but never one as large, or as seemingly deadly.

She had been seen, and the bear was drawing nigh. Kal refrained from making sudden movements. Nudging the little cub with her leg, she went a few steps to the side then back, intent on making an escape before the beast had an opportunity to pounce.

The bear was growling lowly, advancing towards her. Her ears were singing, her chest bursting with the heavy beating within. A bellowing roar escaped the bear and then its powerful legs began to move faster towards the intruder. Kal deftly sprung out of its way, narrowly missing a swiping claw. She turned and swung her weapon to pierce through flesh, evading the beast. In the strain of the moment as she attempted to spring away she tripped over the uneven terrain and landed heavily with her back flat on the ground.

The bear was upon her, and she barely had the presence to position and hold the blade of the scimitar with both hands against its strong maw, now inches from her face. Her legs were drawn to her chest and in an attempt to keep its weight at bay she was pushing against its body with all her might. She released a frustrated cry as Kal felt her strength about to give.

Then she heard three short, swift, and sharp sounds. The weight she tried to keep at bay suddenly became unbearable, the jaws slackening against her weapon. A gurgling sound was heard from deep within its throat as Kal quickly rolled over to avoid being crushed by the inert body.

Panting heavily she looked about her to see the elf approach, longbow in hand.

Kal gasped as she sat up with some difficulty.

Cold grey eyes were set on the dying beast, then on her. "This will happen if you stray."

"I had not gone that far," she protested rather defensively. Why was he acting as if this was her fault?

The elf was retrieving his arrows from the carcass of the beast, when he suddenly straightened at the sound of the soft whimpering from before. Turning, he saw what was now shifting and moving at the feet of the half-orc.

"What is that?" he asked, his eyes on the wolf cub.

"I came upon its mother dead in the wood. It had survived the mauling," Kal said, raising the cub in her arms.

The elf looked at Kal for one moment with narrowed eyes. "No," he muttered as he walked away.

"But it will die here," she countered.

"A better fate than most in these parts," he threw over his shoulder. "You once said it yourself."

Kal frowned. "I thought your kind held themselves better than us folk of the Black Land," she prodded.

The elf turned sharply to face her. "You have no notion of stealth, do you?" he hissed. "If you still wish for my aid, you will go by my rules. The wolf stays behind."

But Kal stubbornly held the cub closer. "It will not," she said into his smoldering stare.

She saw him bristle out of his infuriating calm, noticed his hands balling into fists.

"I doubt it will be such a terrible hindrance," she followed in a placating manner, looking back into small beady blue eyes. "I could attempt to train it." Its moist nose and tongue flicked over her hand. She smiled and pulled her hand away, looking back to the elf, who was now watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Your responsibility," he growled and turned away from her, missing her widening smile.

"One I duly accept," Kal squeezed the little bundle tighter before placing it down to the ground.

They continued their trek, the wolf cub happily prancing on their trail. It was evening by the time the elf led them to an area where stone and cliff lay before them. Her eyes widened at the sight of a waterfall, crashing from above into a foaming pool below. She went after the elf as he began to climb upward, following a path probably known to him. The sound of the rushing falls was a balm to her senses, her mind still frayed from the earlier encounter with the bear. They climbed further and as they reached the top of the cliff Kal discerned the entrance of a cave. It was partly hidden in ivy and overgrowth, but it was there.

"We rest here," she heard him speak.

"I thought we were to reach a stream."

He pointed towards the waterfall. "This is the stream."

So it was. Well, he had saved her life, again, so what harm could come of this. A cave was nothing to the dungeons of the tower. A cave and an elf were nothing compared to what she had seen and felt. Then she wavered, planting her feet into the ground and looking at him intently. "Elf," she called vehemently.

He faced her with his back to the cave entrance, expectant.

"Gratitude for your aid."

The other seemed only momentarily surprised by this.

"But," she continued, "I sense your wariness and see how troubled you are. I am the same. I know not what your purpose is here, and we come from opposite sides of this world. And believe me, you are not my ideal choice of a companion either," she admitted, seeing a frown deepening on his youthful face. "But if we are to travel together, I think you must learn to avail your suspicions of me. You need not look over your shoulder all the time. You need not snap at all and everything."

His mouth quirked in distaste. "It sounds as if you are asking me to trust you," he said blankly.

The half-orc pondered over the new word. Trust. Unsure of its full meaning she ventured ahead, looking him in the eye. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Much to ask of one who not long ago had been your prisoner," the elf followed scathingly, crossing his arms. Kal saw a flicker of resent in his eyes.

Of course, he would neither forgive nor forget about that any time soon. She looked back to the dark waterfall. "You were, and I had done what I was told, though I know that is no excuse," she added quickly. "But you are no longer a captive. Now, I am one who needs you-," she blinked, "-needs your aid," Kal corrected swiftly. "I have done nothing to increase your suspicions of me so far, and we have already fought on the same side, twice."

They stood so regarding each other, the sounds of the water falling echoing in the silence. Why none moved nor said anything, Kal did not know. "What say you?" she hedged, following any change in his stony expression. His scouring gaze did not deter her. There was something in his manner which led Kal to think the elf was weighing her words. It was tiring, the way they acted towards one another and it was time for some sort of change, but both needed be agreeable to such. She surely was.

His jaw was working, his gaze boring into her for another long moment. "Trust is not easily gained. But, one can aim for more understanding," he relented finally.

"A truce, then?" Kal asked, relieved, placing a fist to her chest in Mordor fashion.

Then to her surprise, the elf bowed his head into her direction, his palm coming to rest over his heart. "A truce." When he looked to Kal again, there was a roguish grin on him. It was a stark change from before, and one which made her wonder about him. "In this new spirit of understanding, you are responsible for gathering sustenance this evening," and with that, he turned towards the cave.

Kal frowned, grinding her teeth. "I have dealt with Uruks with less bite and better moods than you, elf," the half-orc grumbled with a sigh. She proceeded to follow after him, the wolf cub close behind.

"Legolas," he said, stopping to look over his shoulder at her. "My name is Legolas," the elf repeated before resuming his stride.

Kal ceased her steps, taken aback by the suddenness of his reveal. A new, unsettling sensation brimmed within. This was nothing if not progress. _A truce indeed._

"Are you coming?" he called without looking back at her.

Kal felt the strange urge to run to him and... well, she knew not what, but her step now gained a different sprint. For reasons unknown, she smiled.


	12. Window of the Sunset

Kal entered the cave through the narrow ivy-covered opening. She discerned a corridor crudely hewn into the stone. The sounds of water gushing and gurgling became louder as she walked. She soon reached a wide cavernous space and Kal froze in her tracks when her eyes beheld a sight she had never seen before. There was yet another wide opening to the cave, but the waterfall she had seen earlier flowed over it. This space was completely hidden from the outside world. The sight was entrancing to her eyes and she drew near. She reached with her hand to touch the water and watched it pour between her fingers, foaming, and cold as ice.

"Henneth Annûn," the elf spoke as he came to stand near the opening as well. "The Window of the Sunset."

Kal turned to him, her features lit in interest.

"Once, this land was bright and alive," he said, gazing ahead beyond the curtain of water. "The light of the setting sun would flow through the waterfall into this space."

The words had been spoken without emotion, but Kal had the impression it must have been quite the sight to witness. She could not recall if she had ever seen the sun, not truly, though she knew of its existence. The half-orc had at times only caught mere glimpses of a shadowed moon when traveling in Ithilien.

"It is..." she trailed away, struggling for the word.

"Nothing but a memory," the elf said before tearing his gaze from the window and heading to another corner of the vast cave.

"What is this place?" Kal asked when she noticed crude objects of furniture sparsely lining the cavernous chamber.

Legolas knelt to retrieve a fallen piece of wax candle before going towards a corner where various tools lay in dusty heaps. "Was. A hidden Gondorian outpost."

"Gondorian?" the word sounded familiar. She recalled the name from a foggy past during her time in the service of the alchemists.

"Gondor was once a prominent kingdom, founded by great men," he spoke, and Kal felt somewhat relieved he was willing to share words with her. "What you now know as the western empire was once a free land, with its own governing laws and rule," the elf explained as he rummaged through the array of objects.

Kal looked about herself, drawing close to a corner where she saw what appeared to be broken shelves. Upon these lay dust-covered clothing: cloaks, tunics, and other garments. This place had been long abandoned.

"Rangers used this spot to watch and assess the threat of Mordor," the elf said as he continued his search.

"Why did we come here?"

Legolas rose and looked at her then. "Because here safety is no issue. Your kind never discovered its whereabouts, and it remains possibly the only place in this land absconded from them."

Kal wanted to bristle at the term he had used but found she had no strength to do so. Her kind. She looked back to the opening where the water flowed with a continuous murmur.

"Further, there are supplies here," and the elf showed her two small objects he had picked from the rubble. She saw flint and a piece of metal, essential items for starting a fire.

Kal nodded in acknowledgment and turned to see where the wolf had gone. Smiling she went to retrieve a cloak which the cub had already sunk its teeth into. She inspected it closer and looked to the corner where more clothing lay, then back to her own appearance. Her garments were in a sorry state. An idea brimmed.

"Were you not going to search for supper?"

"I am," Kal nodded, but she remained standing there with an indecisive mien. One usually preceding a request.

"What is it?" the elf asked with a sigh, angling his body partly to face her.

"Will you... watch it? While I am gone?" she looked him in the eye.

Legolas looked to where the cub was gnawing on the wooden remains of a barrel, then back at her.

"You should not have kept it," he said harshly, but the words held no bite. His eyes flickered back to the animal.

She crossed her arms. He had the right of it, she knew. But it was done now. "It was so lost, and with its mother dead," she said, gazing to the waterfall. Dusk was descending. "I never knew my... the ones I was spawned from," the words spilled before the half-orc caught herself. Why she shared this detail with someone who clearly had little interest in such was an odd slip, if there ever was one. And why did she care, either way, that she had not known them? Some things were best left to the murk of the past. It was the worst thing to do in the Black Land. One's weakness would oft be used against them, and in the most destructive of ways. A lesson learnt long ago. But despite her doubts, she looked back into his face and continued. "It was alone, and confused-"

"It will starve, Kal." The tone had been strange as he said this. His eyes were dulled with regret. It was also the first time she had heard her name from his mouth, which felt even stranger. Kal had never witnessed regret in anyone before and this display intrigued her. It made her consider and wonder what the elf had truly been like, in the past. Long before they lost. She looked back to the wolf cub. "Will you watch it or no?"

The elf did not reply but instead was heading towards the other entrance to the cave, where he ceased and Kal heard him speak in the curious winding lilt which was his language.

"Tolo hí," he lightly said, and Kal watched in wonder as the wolf ceased what it was doing and ran towards the elf. It followed him obediently outside the cave.

Bemused, Kal went after them for a while before going her own way, hoping she would find anything resembling nourishment. There was little daylight left and she did not go far. She went as the elf began to gather wood for a fire, descending farther amid the trees. After some time and an unsuccessful search, Kal returned, defeated and hungrier than before. She looked to the pool at the base of the waterfall. Her eyes could discern nothing living within its waters.

Sighing, the half-orc returned to the cave and found the elf seated cross-legged near a fire. He must have kindled it while she was gone. She went to him in the far corner of the enclosure, not without noticing the wolf cub beside him, resting with its head on his thigh. The elf stood with his back propped against the cave wall and was staring listlessly into the flames.

"Nothing," she grumbled, falling in a tired heap near the fire across from him. Her eye was caught by the sleeping cub.

She felt his eyes on her and looked up. "I am sorry," she said. For failing. The half-orc had heard the words exchanged among slaves at times, and they usually conveyed remorse.

His lack of a reply told her the elf must have known it would be so, but let her try either way.

Night veiled the lands. The weak fire reflected in the water falling in soothing sounds below. They stood in silence, each caught in their own thoughts. The space had a rather warm glow about it from the flames, and their silent shadows crept up the uneven walls. Movement caught her eye after a while, and Kal saw the elf stir and rise, paying her no mind. To her surprise, the wolf remained sleeping despite the sudden motion.

Her eyes followed him to the wide opening. She watched him with some bemusement as he began to remove his belt and pull his tunic over his head, then his shirt. The first urge was to look away but curiosity won, and from the corner of her eye Kal watched him standing with his back to her, tall and shadowed by the night. He reached for the curtain of water which soon poured into his cupped hands, which he then used to wash his face. His skin was white and unmarred by any visible scars, covering a lean but sturdy frame. Though there was strength in him, to her eyes this creature appeared completely different to the orc or Uruk-hai. While they were brawn and bulk, he was coiled tension.

The elf then turned to face her and leaned slightly back so water flowed over his head. She saw the green changing flicker of the stone set around his neck. It reflected the light in beams as it rose gently against the movement of the one it adorned. When done, he turned and wrung the water from his long hair, then came back to regain his spot by the fire. He sat down cross-legged, head bowed, his eyes emptily staring into the flames and again taking no heed of her presence. Rivulets poured down his shoulders and chest from the wet strands of light silver now plastered to his skin, and the beads of water trailing downward appeared reddish gold from the flames.

Kal watched this foreign being with barely concealed fascination. Her eyes seemed to take no heed of her mind, and though she wanted to avert her gaze, it suddenly proved the hardest task. Her sight was set on the gem fastened around his neck. "Your... friend... the one the stone belonged to," Kal began, curiosity getting the best of her.

His gaze shifted to meet hers, and then she noticed the deep shades under his eyes. Were they there before?

"Do they still live?" she asked.

He looked back into the flames, frowning. There was a strain on his face. "I do not know. At times it feels so. But-," the elf cut his own words short, as though refraining from sharing too much.

Just as well, she let him be. Getting an answer at all was more than she expected. More time passed as neither spoke nor moved, content with silence. After a while, Kal saw him don his shirt and tunic, and he leaned back against the wall with closed eyes.

There was much to learn of this world, now and before. She decided for patience, though it came hard to grasp, with the way she was used to running at breakneck speed through life so far. This situation was no different, but now there were two of them running. That did not by any chance mean she welcomed it, as it was strange to not be alone, and still be free. Whether she liked it or not - and being honest with herself, she most certainly did not - the elf surely knew of it all. The viewpoint from the other side, the full history of events she knew from one source only. What did the other say? Why had they fought the Dark One to their ruin? Tiredly, she blinked away all the irksome gaps her mind held, and resolved to wait. _Legolas_, she mulled the sound of his name over in her mind as Kal watched him. She looked away frowning, briefly wondering at its meaning. And how one could appear so youthful, yet bear themselves with the gravity pertaining to one ancient, was beyond her. She wondered, not for the first time, what he must have lived through. Each being had their own tale to tell, marked in their eyes, their memories. What did he know, what had he seen? Then she thought about the world in its entirety. She wondered about its state before the rule of the Dark One commenced. It was then Kal noticed his hand, fingers buried into the fur of the cub, lying fallen asleep by his side. The truth was, this one was the complete opposite of all that she knew. Perhaps there were others like him in the world. One step before the other.

Thoughts drifting to other things, she recalled the abandoned clothes seen within the cave, and the idea from earlier flourished once more. But it could all wait until morning. Fatigue and hunger burned at the back of her eyes, in her throat. Sleep would do. Before drifting away she recalled the root the elf had given her. Kal retrieved it, inspected it briefly, and took a sure bite. It tasted bitter, smelled worse. But the elf said it would aid with her terrors in the night, and if she were being honest, anything would do. _Trust..._ the word echoed in her mind as she slid down onto the floor facing the fire. Her lids became heavy and she soon waded through a deep, dreamless slumber.

The elf opened his eyes after a while. He followed the sounds of flowing water in its never-ending rhythm, placing a cadence to his thoughts. He stood there watching the huddled form of Kal throughout the night, until the first signs of dawn made themselves known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> "Tolo hí" = Come here (Sindarin)


	13. Sight by the water

Kal awoke to the soothing sounds of the waterfall, finding herself alone in the cavern. Her eyes followed the space, seeing no sign of elf nor wolf. She stretched, feeling more rested than she had in a while. The half-orc could tell it was reasonably early. She felt numb inside with the grating of hunger against her belly, but Kal was grateful it did not burn her insides at least. Thirst was another matter. She went to the waterfall and cupped her hands to drink and wash her face. Then she recalled her thought from the previous night and turned towards the corner where Kal had seen piles of abandoned clothes. She went and began rummaging through them.

In the end, Kal settled for a dusty long-sleeved grey tunic, the smallest she found in size. Though tall and hardened by travel, fighting, and labor, her figure was yet lithe and narrow around the shoulders, without the bulk marking orc kind. The tunic fit well over her perky yet unassuming chest and she found a worn belt to fasten it with. A pair of dusty trousers completed this new attire. The materials were of soft leather and cloth which felt rather good against the skin of her fingers, as opposed to the roughened leather of her current outfit. Her boots were still in working condition and for that Kal was immensely grateful.

True to her goal, Kal debated whether to go wash in the pool below or resort to the waterfall. And where was the elf? The thought that he had up and left her there did cross her mind, but then she brushed it away. He must have gone off somewhere, taken the cub with.

The half-orc decided for the pool after all, and attuning her ears to any sign of possible danger she nimbly climbed down towards the water, her chosen garments placed over her shoulder. Once there and eyes on her surroundings Kal removed her worn and ripped garments until she stood bare, the chilly morning air caressing her skin. She undid her braid, allowing her black hair to loosely drape over her shoulders and down to her waist. Her skin pricked and she guessed the water would be cold, but the need to feel clean won again. She descended into the pool with slow steps, taking fast breaths as she submerged under the cold waters.

The skies were of a reddish grey, similar to ones she had seen in her endless days working in the fields of Núrn. The semi-arid area consisted mostly of plains with short grass, still fertile enough for farming to support the armies of the Dark One. She could still scarcely believe she had survived them. But what came after had made Kal regret and even long for her time in Núrn.

Barad-dûr had been frightening the first time she found herself ushered within its walls, even to one accustomed to life in the Black Land. Most of the nightmares plaguing her still were of the Tower. When she had seen her new masters, in their robes of black and gold with their hidden faces and long gripping fingers, she wanted to flee. But there was nowhere to go, no escape. She and other young mortal women had been provided as slaves in service to the alchemists of the One. The ones who sought to ever increase His power through their skill in the arcane and fell arts, aiming at efficiency, devising new potions, or never before seen weapons of liquid fire and ash. Creating and breeding His soldiers for Him.

The struggling, screams, and hushed pained sighs of the women she could still hear clearly, along with the grunts of those forcing them into vile and debasing actions. Every day she had wished for death during her years within those black walls, yet it never came. Somehow, she achieved what others had not. She escaped it. Kal shut her eyes tightly to avail herself of the memories as she submerged into the water completely.

When she broke the surface, her legs careful not to scrape against the jagged sharp rocks beneath, Kal thought she heard a short barking sound. Looking before her the half-orc saw the lithe figure of the elf approach after the wolf. The little creature seemingly decided it would join Kal in the water, its legs swift as it ran towards the pool. It was nearing her even as Kal slowly began to head towards the edge.

"Eron!" she heard the elf call. At that moment and to her surprise, the cub cut its speed and stood down on its hind legs, waiting patiently by the pool for her.

The elf stood a little ways from the wolf at ease, and Kal met his gaze. "Where have you gone?" Kal tried as she continued towards the pair.

His gaze held its usual morose quality as he pointed and looked to the wolf. "Your wolf had to eat," he said tiredly. Then he looked back to Kal, and his eyes fell on the half-orc who was now waist-deep in the water, her wet hair plastered to her shoulders, arms, and chest; nightly strands roaming over alabaster skin.

"You found something he could eat?" she asked with wonder, seemingly unaware or uncaring of her nakedness, or his eyes on her. Shame and pedantry had not been traits one learned in Mordor. Thus Kal found it strange when he averted his gaze from her as she neared.

"Eron!" he repeated the strange sound with some vehemence as the elf saw the wolf had begun to gnaw on the clothes Kal left to the side of the pool. He then looked back to find Kal had emerged from the water completely, reaching the garments in quick strides. "It was a stroke of luck. We found a nest of bark beetles he set to feast upon," the elf followed, his eyes now set on the waterfall.

"What is that you called him?" Kal asked as she pulled the long-sleeved tunic over her head. Why was he avoiding looking her way?

"It needed a name," he said, his eyes locked back to hers.

"And Eron is a name, then."

"Do you have a better one?"

She pulled on her leggings and tied them, then looked back to him. "I do not," she said, realizing the Legolas had thought of an aspect indeed important but which she had missed. Kal pondered, mulling the word over. "It will do, as it seems he is already responding to it." She wondered how much of an influence the elf had been with regards to that. He seemed to have a strange ability to easily sway the animal into doing his bidding. How unusual these creatures were. Kal reached to flick the wolf's ears before drying her hair with her hands. "Does this name have a meaning to it?"

Legolas fell silent for a moment. "In my tongue, it means Lone One. He yet lives, but lone is his path to walk the earth, the last of his kin."

The last words sounded somewhat grieved and regretful. As they walked back towards the cave together, there was something that would not let Kal be. She took a fast breath and driven by curiosity she posed her question. "And you? Are you the last of your kin?"

The elf seemed to still at the query, but his stride never faltered. They reached the entrance to the cave when he turned to her. "No, not the last. Though your master took great pains to destroy most of my people," he spat coldly as he entered the corridor.

"The Dark One is not my master," Kal replied hastily. "Not anymore." When will he accept it?

Legolas shook his head. "So you say, Kal of the Black Land."

She decided to not take the bait. "I assume we are to move," she said instead.

The elf only nodded, setting to gather a few sparse supplies from the space without. "We follow through the wood with caution. We will reach the river in about two days time. Keep the wolf at bay."

The question of what this elf had been doing here so close to Mordor still burned bright as a beacon in the back of her mind. What was his purpose? Why stray into such danger? What for? This one was a complete opposite of her dark kin, as Kal had come to see. For one, he had not beaten nor otherwise maltreated one weaker than he. She looked back at Eron. That had been a new sight to her. What she felt for the cub was pity at first. A rare sentiment, but she had felt it before. It appeared that somewhere deep within himself, the elf was also capable of such. Unsure why all of this mattered to her, Kal brushed the thoughts away. When she looked around herself the half-orc found the elf staring at her.

"Are you done daydreaming?" he asked tersely, but the tone had been less scathing than before.

Her amber eyes narrowed, but she fell back. "Lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> "Eron" = Lone One (Male) Sindarin
> 
> I was asked how old the character of Kal is. In this fic roughly 25 years have passed since the battle at the Black Gate. Kal had been born some time after that event. Needless to say, she is quite young.


	14. The cry on the shore

The skies were dark and grey above Imladris. All lay abandoned to the winds, the thrashing sounds of the waterfall the only constant from before times. And the bright and shimmering vale had begun to blacken attuned to the changes in the world, at last abandoned to its whims. Within the once last homely house, all was still and quiet, save for one weak flicker of light.

Deep within the Great Hall, now cold and abnormally large in its emptiness, three figures sat near the dying embers of the hearth. Their heads were bowed, their faces grim.

"And so, he has simply vanished?" one of them asked, her black silken hair concealing half of her face, her reddened eyes cast downward.

One of the standing figures sighed. His hands tightened into fists, and his tired face frowned in deep distress. All came back to him in crashing waves. "So it would seem," he said remorsefully.

Her fingers trembled over the green stone in her lap. "I cannot believe it. I do not," the elf maid spoke softly.

Though guilt was his plight, his eyes unable to meet the bright grey ones set on him, Legolas could not help but feel the same. A small sliver of doubt at the edges of black certainty. Though he had failed to protect his friend in the decisive throw, a strong determination was building steadily within.

Gimli stood silent beside the two elves, his hands propped against the handle of his broad axe. He looked to the elf. Perhaps he sensed, as he usually could, the strong torrent of emotions consuming his friend. He closed his eyes in a frown at the words which followed.

"I will find him, Arwen. If he lives, I will find him, down through the depths of Barad-dûr itself, if I must. And I will bring him back."

What may have been a smile was seen on her face only to disappear. "I cannot ask this of you, loyal friend," she lowered her head, perhaps not daring to hope. Perhaps wishing for the wisdom of her elders. She was just as lost as they were.

Legolas then knelt before the elf maid and placed his hands over her own. He noticed how cold hers were. "I would do this either way. All I ask for is your trust," his eyes became kind and hedging, "and for you to live."

The light dimming around her seemed to flicker brighter only momentarily. She who had taken a human for love, abandoning her fate to that of mortality. Her family and kin were gone before the fall of the Havens. The elf maid knew, felt that she was sundered from them forever, or until whatever end would come. If only it came sooner. Yet somehow, she had not begun to fade.

She stared back into bright eyes, lit with purpose and resolve. "And what shall we do now?..."

"Legolas!" a shrill cry drew the elf out of his impromptu reverie. It had the effect of ice-cold water. The elf loathed the way his memories took over when he was most weary, distracting his senses and sending his mind adrift.

His eyes and ears picked both sound and movement below. From his position atop a low sturdy branch not far from the riverbank, the elf discerned a moving creature. It was frightened, he could sense it. The half-orc who had yelled for him was close behind with the wolf.

Passing from tree to tree with his long and nimble leaps, he was soon way ahead of the moving point of interest for the half-orc. He gracefully landed to the ground right before it.

His eyes went wide. His mouth fell agape, his grey gaze flickering to Kal who had reached them in the meantime. He leaned to the side and quickly caught the fugitive as it tried to run past him.

* * *

Kal walked purposefully to the river bank. They had reached the shores of Anduin the Great just as the elf estimated, following roughly two days of travel. Uneventful they were, and a welcome respite from the turmoil and chaos of recent happenings. As Kal neared the shore she went to where the elf was descended. He was busying himself with filling a skin of water to be boiled and then deemed safe to drink.

The half-orc looked ahead of her, where the west bank was visible in the distance as a dark thin patch on the horizon.

"Do we cross it?" Kal asked him without preamble, her gaze turned to the water.

"Not here," he replied, his eyes still on his task.

Though her wandering attention was caught by the ripples his movements caused, after a while, Kal could distinguish his reflection mirrored in the water. She looked to her own, then imperceptibly back to his as the elf still stood motionless, descended to one knee beside her. He appeared to her as one depleted of strength, but it did not usually show in his bearing. He looked so youthful and yet so aged, it was the strangest sight. As Kal regarded him she thought his focus shifted to stare into the river as well.

She did not avert her stare and the silence was somewhat soothing, this new presence not as peculiar and unsettling as it was before. One reckoned it might be owed to a sort of routine which had begun between them. He would keep to his own, and she would leave him be. In common tasks, they had come to an understanding of sorts. Driven by interest Kal did try once or twice to hedge the elf into speaking more about matters of the world if only to aid in her own goals. But there had been little success in that endeavor, and so the half-orc had abandoned those attempts. And yet at times, her curiosity would resurface through her questions.

"What did the land beyond the river use to be called?"

"Lebennin would be in front," he pointed ahead. "Once named one of the fairest provinces of Gondor," the elf added thoughtfully.

Fair. Kal frowned in thought, images of what would constitute a fair land failing to arise. She had heard human slaves using the word and knew it referred to the pleasant appearance of someone or something. They had attributed many meanings to it, but never about the land. Then again, who would say such of a place they had been forced to end their days in?

"But I dare say, that before the great war many places were so," the elf added, surprising Kal by saying more to her than he had in days.

She presumed speaking of it kept the memory alive. If only it were the same for her memories, which would persistently haunt despite her attempts to never recall nor speak of them.

"Did you fight in the Great War?" the question spilled from her. There came an irksome urge to make the most of this openness.

Legolas scoffed, and in the water, she saw him look away and shake his head lightly. So there would be no answer.

"Many still do," she heard, and as ever, his answers only led to more questions.

Kal supposed this was the way with their lot. She had heard their words were canny and cryptic, much like their elusive race. For the first time, the half-orc wondered what the Dark One and the Other before him came to hate about them so much. There were many things she still did not grasp, the stolen hours amid the tomes in the library not partial to even accounts. Elves were all but mentioned in the chronicles, and then as a nuisance and a plague, ever bent on foiling the designs and progress of the Other.

As she stood lost in meandering thoughts Kal noticed late that his reflection in the water had disappeared. Alone, she turned to where Eron was a ways ahead of the bank sniffing and rummaging amid a copse of mangled trees. It was ever inquisitive, the little beast. Her lips curled upward. His behavior was still that of his wild kin, beginning with a shrewd sort of curiosity and ending with sparks of feral viciousness. But this fey manner was not of the same ilk as that of the wargs or great hounds of Mordor. It was innate, a trait necessary for survival. It was starting to show more and more, despite the young animal having only sparse sustenance available. Kal felt upset as she recalled the words of the elf. _It will starve, Kal._

She would not allow that to happen. And despite his morose stares and at times obvious pique, the elf would always, if reluctantly, aid somehow in tempering or soothing the wolf. It was a constant marvel on her part as to how the sprite managed to do so. Kal found a new feeling brimmed, one she would not know the word for. She may have felt grateful.

The half-orc turned to the river again and set to wash the sparse utensils they had retrieved from the cave. As she was lost in the task the surrounding silence was pierced, and low and urgent growling reached her ears. Kal stood suddenly and saw Eron coiling ahead, most frantic and agitated, its maw dragging and nipping amidst the trees.

With fast steps, Kal strode to the wolf. "Eron! Cease!" she called, but the animal was undeterred. When she drew close enough Kal furrowed her brows together in confusion when her eyes beheld what resembled a foot, which Eron was pulling at quite fervently.

She drew back the wolf forcefully as it would not release his fare, and thus pulled after him what had been well hidden within the thicket.

Kal paused.

Wide brown eyes stared upward at the half-orc through dirty dark locks, regarding her tall frame, pale skin and strange amber eyes. Caught by the scimitar she had pulled and was brandishing in her left hand. They looked to the wolf briefly before turning back on her, widening at the slight fangs discerned through her parted lips.

The child retreated from her on his arms and legs while Kal stood frozen and unsure what to do. A human? Here? "I will not-..." But before she could continue the boy had turned and scrambled away, his steps faltering. He never looked back.

"Wait!" she half-orc called and hurried after him, Eron in tow, the little beast unknowing but excited about this having turned into a hunt of sorts.

The little one was fast. Her eyes followed, then lost him amid the rusty foliage.

"Legolas!" she alerted the elf, knowing he would hear the call wherever he was in the area, which surely was not far.

Then as she ran Kal saw him, landing just before the child who fell over in shock and fear. She approached them and saw the human attempt an escape but the elf, though astonished himself, caught the child in an instinctive movement.

The child was thrashing in his arms and both elf and half-orc looked rather helplessly at the other, faced with this new and unexpected find. Kal then saw Legolas close his eyes, and lowering his head he began to speak to the child.

"Av-'osto," he repeated the same words many times, so foreign and new.

After a while the child ceased struggling, and his body softened. His head lolled to the side and Legolas supported him gently to the ground.

Kal heaved a sigh, looking to the elf. "And what shall we do now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Av-'osto" = Don't be afraid (Sindarin)


	15. Thy kinsmen wander far

The weak fire crackled in the dead of night, illuminating four presences. Kal looked to her clawed hands. Her nails were uneven and bloody in places. She might need to shorten them somehow. If only she had her dagger.

Kal looked resentfully to the elf who had so completely confiscated her weapon. His manner could be ghoulish at times, though he mostly shrouded himself in bothersome calm and sullen silence. She then looked uneasily towards the still sleeping human. "What have you done to it?" she asked, seeing as the child had not awakened yet since their odd and stunted encounter earlier in the day.

Water boiled in a small cast iron recipient hung by a wire handle over the fire.

The elf met her eyes. "I have done nothing but attempt to calm _him,_" he snapped coldly. "His fright may have been so strong that his body needs yet more time to recover."

Kal looked away. Of course, humans would have such reactions to her. Not at first, perhaps, seeing as she did not strike one as kin to the creatures of Mordor. But once they saw her manner and companions, fear would always take hold.

She had beaten and willingly frightened humans before, owed to her responsibilities in keeping them in check while serving with the Uruk company. Somehow it gnawed at her now and she wished the memories away. Kal sought the gaze of the elf again, finding his narrowed eyes set on her. He remembered. He was there.

"What?" she bit, harsher than she may have intended.

Legolas only regarded her silently for a breath longer, with meaning which Kal dreaded to face, before looking back into the fire.

_Intrusive, infuriating tree lovers. _The half-orc certainly hoped their lot did not boast any mind-reading abilities. If the high alchemists of the Tower could do so, it was not a foreign possibility that a race such as this could also have such skills. Was it? Then she caught herself. Why would whatever he thought matter? They would soon - she hoped - part ways, leaving Kal on her own, and far away from all those suspicious stares.

"I doubt he could survive on his own, here. With all the patrols and hunts happening regularly," Kal said instead, wanting to set her mind on more immediate and less distressing matters. Now that they stumbled into the creature they could not very well leave it to fend on its own. And what to do with it? She had taken the wolf, yes, but this was a different matter. Then again, why not leave it to fend on its own? They were under no oath.

"I think there is another, or at least a source of support and nourishment," she continued, filling the silence between them. Eron was resting at her side, his eyes half-closed and glazed over, their swift movement alluding to whatever dreams beasts were wont to have.

"We are close to the border of South Ithilien," the elf finally deigned to speak. To Kal, his features looked even sharper against the night. "The orc are not so thorough here as they are closer to the Black Land."

Kal raised an eyebrow. She took the boiling water off the fire and placed it aside. "Did you just... agree with me?" she asked, unsure what this sudden uplifting mood was owed to. She found the same mood increased when he frowned. Yes, she rather enjoyed this.

His words were wearier than he looked. "I agree with the possibility."

Kal crossed her arms, and a corner of her mouth curled upward. She was about to prod him further, when they both heard movement. Sluggish and slow, but it was something other than the rise and fall of a chest.

The half-orc leaned closer, but Legolas extended an arm toward her. "Stay where you are," he said looking to the child.

That caused an irksome sort of strain in her chest. Confused but driven by her own inquisitiveness, she only watched. She watched the elf aid the human into a sitting position, saw brown eyes reflecting remnants of fear. Legolas was staring straight into the other's eyes, and the child soon appeared entranced.

"I will not harm you," he was saying, in a tone of voice Kal had never heard from him. It had the quality of a vision, but not the dark and harrowing ones of her own mind. This vision was tranquil and brought with it a mild restfulness. She shook her head to ward off the effect.

The boy merely gaped at the elf but seemed at ease for the most part. His eyes went fearfully to Kal, who sat straighter. Legolas leaned closer to the child. "She will not harm you, either," he said now looking to Kal, a new light in his eyes.

Kal felt walled in by that gaze, and though unwilling and duly annoyed, could not look away. When he averted his stare Kal breathed a short sigh. "Indeed I will not. We are travelers here," she spoke. As she inspected his appearance Kal recalled the children, unsought for offspring from hidden or otherwise doomed liaisons during her time working the fields. Few survived infancy and fewer still lived beyond the first decade of their lives. But the Haradrim had children also, and those fared better than most. She assessed the human only briefly, not wanting to lengthen his distress with her eyes on him. The boy looked gaunt but had not the lost look of one starving.

"What is your name?" Legolas was asking.

The child opened his mouth, but no sounds came forth.

The elf produced a small slice of what Kal discerned was the same type of blood-red root she had tasted before. The boy took it willingly.

Kal eyed her traveling companion questioningly.

"Do you... have a place to go to, nearby?" the elf continued as the child bit into the root.

The boy nodded.

The two travelers looked to one another again. Then, eyes on Kal, the elf spoke. "Do you know how to return?"

Another nod.

Kal knew where this was going. And she was in agreement, though no further looks or words were shared between them.

"We will take you there, on the morrow," the elf then spoke, and the child lifted his eyes in wonder.

Then Kal saw fingers move and take a broken twig and scrape against the ground. Both elf and half-orc hovered over what appeared to be letters.

Soon the etching was complete, and Legolas looked to the child. "Celeg? That is your name?"

Yet another nod of the head.

Kal began to suspect this was something she had seen before. This human cub was deprived of speech.

"Well, Celeg, now rest anew, and on the morrow, you will be returned to your dwelling," the elf was speaking to the boy as if he were a grown man.

Kal wondered, not a little resentfully, at how unusually inclined the child was towards the sprite, and so readily trusting. _A mistake that may prove deadly someday._

That night the half-orc stood watch with sleep eluding her. It happened at times. The river was a moving mass of blackness and Kal mulled over many things while listening to the swaying of the waters and the subdued, rhythmic sounds of life coming from the nearby boy and wolf. She knew the elf was somewhere, awake, standing watch, perhaps watching her with distrust. Insufferable it was, and a common occurrence. The half-orc had not the interest to sharpen her senses to see specifically where he was, but felt him close either way after a while. Possibly somewhere above, reclining amid the fading crowns, a strange and evasive vestige. Kal willed her mind into a blank. She did not believe elves could read the thoughts of others and chided herself for this childish reaction born of presupposition. But then, her thoughts would lead to him much of the time lately, certainly more than before, and to say that was unsettling would be a mild way of putting it.

When grey dawn came she was stood in the same spot, and as if drawn from a spell marveled at how fast the night had passed.

"The mortal is awake," Kal heard the elf, and saw him standing to her right from the corner of her eye.

"I know," she replied shortly. She had discerned his approach a while ago, but this time her mood had been akin to his own. Silence was peace.

They gathered themselves and took warily down to the river, accompanying Celeg, who set on leading them into a known direction. It was in their way, the elf had said, and so no great impediment to their goal. They turned from the river and walked for some time. A familiar twilight ruled in this part of the forest and both travelers stood observant, listening for any fell intent come their way. Here, not all the foliage was withered and fouled, being farther from the Black Land. A faded living green mingled with dying corrosion into strange hues. It smelled of wet rust, and an afterthought of decay was in the air. It was still not as putrid as the start of their journey.

The boy was hardy for one his size, Kal observed. And his clothes were ragged but somewhat fit him, and so it was not off the mark to deduce someone must be, or must have been taking care of him. Better yet, seeing him roam these forests near the gates to the center of the empire had been quite the sight, more so as the hunting expeditions for stray hiding humans had never ceased. But then humans were known to be reckless.

Celeg brought them to a clearing, where before their eyes rose a shape similar to a mound at first. Mostly covered by trees and moss and thus nearly invisible to the untrained eye, if one were to come closer they would notice the stooped but standing wooden structure forming a hut of sorts. Kal followed with Eron, the elf covering them some ways behind. She appraised the strange structure closer, taking in its crooked walls and improvised roof, when Celeg shifted and pointed to somewhere.

"To the ground!" the elf's hoarse voice startled her. Kal had stepped after the boy and now looked about herself, feeling another presence only when a sharp sound reached her ears. She turned too late. Her shoulder and chest flared with pain and late Kal realized she had been struck, falling to her knees as her body coiled in instinctive defense. Her vision was drowned by the bloodlust which took hold when she was pushed too far, but Kal still saw the elf aim and shoot one arrow, then heard him hiss in his foreign language, rushing towards the source. Had he missed?

Legolas swiftly darted into the trees and easily picked the shooter hidden amidst the boughs. He advanced and lunged at his opponent, the speed of the attacker no match for his own. As they fell grappling to the ground and his fist was about to make contact with the man's face, he saw a white tuft of hair, and met wide grey eyes. The likes of which he had seen before. His mind burst aflame and crumbled in memory, and the elf stared down at the aggressor in disbelief. He lowered his fist and removed his knee from the man's throat.

The old man gaping back at him slowly rose to sit, panting, eyes filling with recognition.

"L- ... Legolas?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, everyone's getting together for New Year's!
> 
> Just kidding.
> 
> Though Sauron will be fashionably late as usual.
> 
> Have a great one!


	16. Counsels Taken

Not even the slightest gust of wind disturbed the silence of the night. Within the dark, musty, and sparsely adorned space that made the inside of a shack, one could discern the faint light of a small candle. On one side of the shack lay Kal with her eyes closed, her brow lined with beads of feverish sweat. Her shoulder had been crudely bandaged, and a widening red stain seeped through the material. Half awake and half drifting amid shadows, the half-orc barely recalled the events that followed after she had been so shamefully struck down in plain sight.

"I thought she would harm Celeg, forgive me," the old man had said to the elf, hovering over her, and Kal saw hard grey eyes stare into her own. She was angry, nay she was furious. She would show him what he could do with his plea of forgiveness.

She had then tried to halfheartedly pull at the arrow embedded under her clavicle, felt the elf roughly swat her hand away. And then all went black.

Now she stirred anew and dimly recalled her whereabouts. From the sound and feel of it, she was reclined on a cot of straw and hay. Kal tried to move but the decision proved an ill one as the pain only sharpened in intensity. A whimper escaped her, causing the half-orc to immediately clamp her mouth shut. _No weakness, show no weakness,_ were the words which had kept her alive in the Black Land. But now she was weak, and it certainly showed. How had she been so foolishly unaware of the new presence until it was all but too late? Kal was suddenly very grateful this was not Mordor. As more of her senses returned she discerned a flickering light and voices. One voice she knew well now. Moving only a fraction, her good hand fumbling about, the half-orc felt soft fur and a wet nose. Eron was grumbling and turning, but also offering much-needed warmth. As her leg tilted to the right Kal felt another body strewn alongside her. _It must be the human child. _She sighed at the hilarity of her condition.

"And then?" the elf was asking.

Kal did not wish to eavesdrop on what was being said, and indeed she tried not to. But it was quite hard to unwind her mind presently, and all the harder to attempt and rein it.

"As the first news of the outcome reached us, we fled with the rest. Éowyn was adamant about staying to face them. But when she saw the skies darkening and the Black Land rising in ash and flame, she relented. We fled and hid where we could, as did others. You recall the chaos which ensued. None of the larger known cities were safe. We eventually ceased our flight and settled in what we hoped was a hidden place near the river Serni, in Lebennin. I need not tell you it was a hard and hidden life. A child came of our union." The old man paused.

Legolas regarded the one who had once so valiantly ridden to his death during another war, in another age. The ravages of time upon the Second Children never failed to astonish him. The only reminiscence of what he knew of the likeness of Faramir, captain of Gondor, were his eyes. Eyes still burning bright and ruthless, despite their light being marred by much hardship and toil. His hair went past his shoulders in waves of white and grey, and a white unkempt beard hid half of his face. He wore garments which barely held together, and ever the ranger he held his weapons close. A bow and a worn quiver of arrows reclined to the wall on his side.

"But the years had not been kind to my Éowyn. She had fought with the rest of us, bled with the rest of us, all the while caring for the only child we ever had. When she passed, Elboron was fifteen. We buried her by a willow tree near the Serni. If ever I leave here, I should wish to go to her again."

Legolas tried to rein the emotions washing over him at the tidings. Éowyn. The brave, fiery woman of Rohan. She had astounded him, as few mortals ever had, or ever would. And the memory of her, young and golden with the harsh winds of Edoras sifting through her hair would be forever ingrained in his mind, his heart.

"I regret your loss," he said solemnly, looking to the small wooden table sat between them where the candle burned. There were no chairs, and both stood with their backs against the uneven and mossy wall of the shelter.

Faramir shook his head. "None more than I, my friend. None more than I."

The elf allowed the former ranger a respite before continuing his life story. They had spoken of many things that evening after their unlikely meeting. The last person alive, that either of them had expected to find. And yet, here they were. Despite his anger and ever-growing resent at the Valar, Legolas could not help but wonder.

"And then Elboron grew into manhood," Faramir continued, "and in turn found a maid of his liking among our then small but knit community. Miniel."

"So then, the child-"

"Celeg is my grandson."

"I see."

"Then more raids and attacks came, and it was clear to us that safety was no more. So we decided to leave, all too late. We lingered, overconfident in our abilities." He shook his head. "They were upon us one night, and many perished. We barely escaped with our lives, Miniel, Celeg, and I. My son was not so lucky," and his voice was thick, the words stunted.

Legolas closed his eyes tightly. "Faramir..."

"I led us as best I could," the man continued, not wanting to linger, "knowing a few places in Ithilien we could attempt to dwell in. We found this spot. But then, one day Miniel went by the Anduin to wash a few rags. She never returned."

The elf knew not what to say. This man was past any words of comfort and regret.

"And so, you linger here?..."

"In hopes she does."

A fool's hope. But he would not tell the old man this. How could he?

"And what about your companion?" the old ranger changed the topic rather abruptly.

Steel-blue collided with grey. "What of her?"

Faramir paused, and when he resumed his thought his eyes were strange. "At first, from afar I took her for one of your kind."

When the elf stood silent the former ranger went on, his eyes never leaving the other. "How have you come across each other?"

"Is this an interrogation, captain Faramir?" Legolas asked with a sigh, though his words held no bite.

The old man studied the elf silently before speaking again. "Nay, prince. But think you not that I ought to know what lies at my doorstep? Such as it is," he added bitterly, looking to the sparse and ruined surroundings.

Legolas bit the inside of his cheek. He gave a slight nod. "I came upon her during one of the slave scouting missions I surveyed. She aided me. Somewhat."

That much was true, Kal thought from her corner. She waited for the elf to speak of his capture and her role in it all. But to her amazement, he mentioned neither. She wanted to avert her hearing, but it was near impossible now to focus her thoughts elsewhere.

"Do you know what she is?" Faramir was asking.

The elf grimaced. "I care not what she is," he finally said. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Legolas, the years have caught with me and time has shown me much less mercy than it does you. But my eyes are still sharp, and clearly discerned the weapon she wields. And I have heard that accent from fouler mouths and viler faces. But it is one and the same. I must ask, for we each have suffered much under the ruin of His rule."

The elf looked to the dagger he was twisting in his hand, his face devoid of any outward emotion.

"Why do you travel with a servant of Mordor?" grey eyes were hard on him.

The following words surprised the half-orc.

"A former servant of Mordor."

The old man tapped his fingers against the wood. The two old acquaintances regarded each other eye to eye. "You believe this?"

Legolas looked briefly to the darkened corner of the abode where Kal lay covered in crudely stitched furs.

"The arrow had been dipped in a weakening resin. She will be asleep for some time yet," came the severe yet hedging words.

Legolas drew his gaze away from Kal and set it on Faramir. He could hear the change in her breathing and a quickened heartbeat, as even and alert as many nights before. She was not asleep. Then again, it mattered not if she heard. "I sense no danger from her," he said tiredly as if it took from him much to say so.

Faramir sighed. "Forgive me, Legolas. If she is worthy of your trust, then I have no reason to doubt her."

The elf looked away. "I cannot say that I trust her. But there is honesty in her goal."

"Which is?"

"You are far too curious about my traveling companion," the elf grinned with narrowed eyes.

"You speak to a former ranger and captain of Gondor. Inquisitiveness was a needful trait to have, and one hard to relinquish," the old man quipped, though not unkindly.

The elf mulled over his thoughts for a few moments. "She aims to be free of her bonds, live on her own."

Faramir smiled sadly. "Oh, my friend. You have ever been the idealist."

Legolas scoffed weakly, but could not help a smile.

Kal closed her eyes, fatigue taking hold again. _I care not what she is..._ Drifting back into sleep the words stayed with her, though why that was, the half-orc thought she might never truly know.

The elf and human stood for a while in silence, the lonesome flame of the candle flitting across their faces. At length, the elf spoke.

"Will you not come with, Faramir? I can lead you and the boy to a safer place-"

The old ranger shook his head wearily. "I cannot leave Legolas. I cannot. If Miniel should return..."

The elf looked to his old friend, who suddenly appeared much, much older than before. His grey eyes dimmed with unspoken grief. But there was also hopeless hope, the kind he was so familiar with.

"Faramir..."

"I know, a fool's hope-"

The elf raised a hand, now shamed that it was the very thing he had thought earlier. "I am, possibly, the last who should judge such things," he said with a sad smile. "I only, wish you would reconsider. For Celeg."

Faramir looked into the fire. "You noticed he never speaks."

The elf nodded.

"He had come to say sparse words, as children do. But then came that night. That night, when he saw his father speared through, and his mother barely escape from being raped and burnt to death. It is since that night that he has not uttered a single word."

Legolas shuttered his senses to the overwhelming anguish coming in tides from the mortal. Once, he could have withstood it. Once he could be the pillar others could lean on with their grief and sorrow. Not so today. Now it depleted him.

"And if there is but a sliver of a chance that she returns, that they are reunited... at least that. At least to have his mother."

When the elf met his eyes he saw the man's were full. He only nodded once in understanding before lowering his head.

"You are free to dwell here until your companion is fit to travel again."

The elf brought a hand to his chest and inclined his head respectfully. "Gratitude, my friend."

"It is not much, but this I can do," the old man sighed.

Once the candle died Legolas rose, leaving Faramir to head into a corner to rest. He would stand watch tonight, all things considered. As the hours passed he began to muse over hope, and how it did not elude even those most battered by fate, no matter the trials, and no matter the loss. How it held and heralded change and pushed forward the most unfulfilled of dreams and the most outlandish of wishes.

The elf noticed he had come to pass by the now sleeping figure of Kal. In the gloom he discerned her still form as Kal lay on her back, Eron curled into her side. The boy had somehow crawled beside the wolf and slept with one arm placed over the animal. Three heartbeats were pulsing in a slow cadence, roughly in the same rhythm.

Yes, even the most outlandish of wishes.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he disappeared through the stooped entrance, quiet and swift as a shadow into the weary night.


	17. Little I have seen

Kal opened her eyes even as a musty scent filled her nostrils. A few blinks later she recalled her location and state. The half-orc tried to rise and managed with some difficulty as her gaze flitted across the enclosure. It was dark but for two narrow recesses hewn into either opposing wall, allowing streams of grey light to fill the space. The structure was somewhat rectangular in shape and supported by wooden pillars, though one could not ascertain this from the outside.

The half-orc rose slowly and managed to prop her back against the wall. What time of day was it? Looking to her wound, she noticed the crude rags it had been bandaged with were now of a greenish yellow tint. The pain had worsened, but her feverish tremors ceased. Fragments of a conversation meandered through her wearied mind._ I cannot say that I trust her... _She shook her head, dreading to dwell on vaguely irritating and disheartening thoughts and instead strained her eyes in search of her weapon.

It was then she noticed the boy. Celeg was seated some ways in the corner from her cross-legged, her scimitar before him. Bright brown eyes followed her curiously, but there was no trace of fear in them now.

"Greetings...," she tried halfheartedly, her voice raspy with disuse.

The boy moved from his position and drew closer to Kal.

"Wait, could you... could you bring my weapon with as well?" She wanted it close. It was always best to have a means of defense at hand. Especially now, as powerless as she felt.

Celeg looked back to the scimitar, obligingly grasping the handle with both small hands and proceeding to drag it after.

"Celeg, leave it there," a new voice sounded from without.

Her head snapped to attention, meeting steely grey eyes boring down on her. There was much distrust and wariness in them as orc and man regarded each other in silence. After all, this aging human had shot her without hesitation, and Kal felt her body become taut with the familiar tension before a battle.

She heard the elf call him Faramir. At length the man spoke, approaching the corner where Kal lay in measured steps until he stood before her. "You have no use for your blade here," his terse voice washed over her.

Her eyes narrowed. "It is best to be cautious among strangers."

"Particularly among strangers your masters have routinely enslaved and destroyed."

Kal looked away. Similar words she had heard the elf say before. Somehow her arrow wound was become much less bothersome than his searching eyes.

Weighing her words, Kal settled for neutrality. "My only wish, is to be left to my own."

The old man shifted his tattered cloak to one side, kneeling beside the cot. Celeg had since joined them, seating himself with his legs bent under him at Kal's feet.

"Is it now," he said with a smile which never reached his eyes. But he pursued nothing more. Instead the old ranger pointed to her bandages. "Those need changing by the looks of it."

Kal said nothing.

"Has the pain subsided?"

Such undue care from the one who had inflicted said pain. "It has not," she answered shortly.

Faramir nodded in understanding before rising and heading to the opposite corner of the shack. Kal observed various dried herbs were hung about the walls. He returned with a few sparse leaves and Kal saw him retrieve a crude wooden bowl and another tool similar to a pestle. She had seen the like before on the dark alchemists' working tables. Silently the man began to mince the leaves, adding water and sprinkling them with a reddish powder.

"Where... where is Legolas?" she tried, seeing there was no sign of either wolf or elf.

Faramir turned to face her. "Oh, on given names basis I see. How interesting."

She frowned. "What else to call him but by his name?"

A smirk was her only reply. "It is not my place to reveal details he has not deemed to share." Kal recalled Faramir referring to the elf as a _prince_. New questions arose, but she reined them in.

The ranger seemed to be thinking. "And do they give names in the Black Land?" he asked, eyes on his motions with the pestle.

"My name is Kal," she muttered.

"I am called Faramir."

The half-orc wanted to say that she already knew, but refrained from revealing she had heard part of the conversation from the previous night, and his story. She expected nothing but hatred from someone who had lived through so much. But now it did not come, the man before her calm and at ease. This human had once been with family, boasted a place to call his own. What it must be like to have others of your own blood depend on you, Kal had no notion. It was the most she knew of it.

It was the ranger who broke the silence. "Legolas has gone to the river in search of sustenance. He will return in due time."

"I see." She then saw Faramir approach her, and imperceptibly shifted closer to the wall.

He knelt before her, bowl in hand. "This must be applied to the wound." He placed the bowl next to her and stepped away.

"What is it?" Kal eyed the strange mixture suspiciously.

"Something to prevent your dying from infection," he said in the same severe tone from before. "And here is more cloth," the ranger neared and threw the same beside the bowl.

Kal nodded, unsure of how to express her mind. If it were not for him, she might have already been outside the close whereabouts of Mordor by now. When the half-orc met the cold stare of the old man she found him appraising her.

Faramir crossed his arms. "How old are you?"

Kal shifted uncomfortably at the direct query. She was unsure of her age truth be told and had never counted her time in Middle-Earth though she had learned how. "I know not. But when I was similar to the boy in stature His armies were already being dispatched across your lands to the west."

"After the war then," Faramir mused. "Oh but you are a young one," he smiled in a way that caused a sliver of dread rise within Kal. "And how come your home ceased to be to your liking?"

"There is nothing to like there," she grumbled.

"So I have heard. And yet, I would assume the case to be different for one of your... origins."

"You know nothing of my origins," she snapped then, still weary and feeling the pain in her shoulder flare.

"Neither do you, by the looks of it," the smile turned into a taunting grin. But then unexpectedly the ranger sighed, turning on his heel to leave the shack. He looked over his shoulder at her. "I would not have wounded you had I known you posed no threat."

This stunned her. What was the point? He _had_ wounded her, the deed was done. And then her eyes turned into slits, thinking how utterly mistaken this human was. She could be very much a threat, and a part of her wished to show him.

"I assume you still move poorly, and the pain rakes. I would stay put if I were you." He turned to the child. "Celeg, come."

Footsteps died away and Kal was left alone once more to mull over the shadows of her thoughts, wishing she were anywhere else.

* * *

Faramir descended between the trees, his bow and arrows slung about him and Celeg in tow. They would gather wood for fire. His eyes fell on Legolas who was just approaching from the direction leading to the riverbank, a few small and slender fish hanging by a thin string in hand.

"All is clear," he said unto the old ranger.

"Gratitude, my friend."

"I will see you back here," the elf spoke and with that, they parted ways.

When Legolas entered the shack his vision drew in every detail by force of habit, eventually falling on Kal, now struggling in a corner. She had discarded her belt and her tunic was opened at the front while she attempted to remove the garb.

"What are you doing?" he asked when her eyes found him.

Kal sighed, her good hand falling to her side. "What does it look like I am doing? The old man left me medicine of sorts to nurse this," she pointed to the wound.

Eron ran swiftly to the cot, intent on regaling the half-orc with his liveliness. To her amazement the wolf stopped just before Kal and gently climbed beside her, resting its head on her knee. He sighed contentedly.

Kal smiled and ruffled the now richer and thicker fur. "Someone has fed today?" she grinned, looking to the elf.

Legolas hung his fare to a wooden post before approaching the half-orc. He observed the bowl and rags. It seemed Faramir was still as wary of her as she was of him. "Can you sit straight?" he asked without preamble, kneeling beside a now wary Kal.

She looked somewhat disconcerted at him. "I can."

"Then do so."

Her eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Do you want aid tending your wound or no?"

Kal narrowed her eyes at him but somehow her pride peeled away from her will, as with times before in his presence. "Could you?..."

"I have done it the first time, after all," Legolas said tiredly.

The elf had dressed her injury? Kal swallowed and nodded, proceeding to remove half of her tunic. She looked back at him. "I, cannot... this side..." she trailed away, unsure how and indeed never having asked anyone for such aid before.

Legolas shifted closer and reached, lifting her hand to pull the garment off and place it aside. Kal held her breath, the gentleness of this touch so completely opposed to what she knew of the elf.

Now half-naked, Kal began to shiver. Her eyes followed the elf but his focused attention was on the wound. Kal noticed his hair was slightly damp and falling freely around his shoulders. She was reminded of her own dire need of bathing and longed for the cold river waters.

The feel of foreign fingers brought her back as they trailed over her skin, steadily unwrapping the stained material, reaching around her back.

"You did not tell the ranger of your captivity," Kal found herself saying._ Nor of how I was about to end you, _she might have added but refrained from it.

His gaze went to her but for a moment before returning to his task. "Faramir has been through many trials. He does not need you to worry about atop it all."

Her lips curved upward. "Of course."

"Now, apply this salve to your injury." He presented Kal the bowl with its green-brown contents.

Kal dipped her fingers inside the container the elf held in his hand.

"Take a generous amount," he urged.

Kal felt the adherent blend stick to her fingers. She began smearing the ointment onto the reddened gash with her good hand, biting her lip at the soreness in the swollen area. When done she looked back to see the elf already preparing the replacement bandages.

"The arrow did not pierce through completely. You should be fit to travel within a few days. But I am not sure about wielding a weapon. Now shift so you are facing me," he instructed and Kal complied as the cloth was wrapped around her shoulder wound twice around. Her eyes were half opened, her skin now attuned to the warm touch. The salve must have begun to release its effects, for her lashes became heavier. Her mind felt engulfed in heavy mist and unawares the half-orc drifted into a strange place beyond consciousness. The pain was there, but whisperings of unknown meaning lulled her into a state of soothing meandering.

Her thoughts dispersed, mingling with others. And soon strange visions materialized before her eyes. Images of dark green glades, a shade of color she had never seen before. And then there were large courts with wide arches, strikingly different from what she had seen within the dark and stifling structures of Mordor. Winding stairs lit by shimmering lights led to unknown heights. Lilting laughter, and bright figures engaged in entrancing movements together. Kal felt a weak and gentle flow of warmth span from her center to the tips of her fingers. This was beyond anything she had ever seen or felt. She was spellbound, wanting to linger, to see more of it all.

Then just as sudden as they flooded her, the images disappeared along with the touch and Kal found herself back in the poorly lit shed.

Her gaze fell on Legolas. He was regarding her with wide eyes, and Kal felt distraught despite herself under the intensity of that resentful gaze. His deep frown aided matters little. Looking downward in a haze, Kal saw her fingers were pressing into her chest, and clasped over his hand.

The elf sharply snatched his arm away and rose all in one single motion, turning his back on Kal without a word to head outside. He passed by Faramir who was just entering the shack with Celeg. "I will return shortly," he threw hastily, going around the old man.

Faramir did not miss the remnants of distress marring the features of his friend. He looked back to find Kal now attempting to pull her tunic back on and failing. He sighed and made a motion with his head to Celeg.

Kal saw the boy approach as she struggled, still taken aback and confused by the unusual happening of earlier and more so by the reaction of the elf. She barely felt Celeg reach and gently aid her into the garment, her mind still dwelling on peaceful green shades and the unfamiliar warmth of strong fingers.


	18. On a starless night

The elf returned to see Kal had fallen asleep. His gaze lingered on her figure, eyes narrowing to some degree.

"Has she done something to distress you?"

Despite himself, Legolas nearly jostled in surprise. He had missed that Faramir was there, as rarely happened. The elf looked to his old friend and shook his head.

"You look as though you were confronted with a specter," Faramir said, appraising the stiff and pale appearance of the other.

"In a manner of speaking," Legolas said thoughtfully, ignoring the line of questioning. He was getting accustomed to the habit of his friend, and knew thwarting him was useless.

The elf sat down onto the moss-covered ground, after which Faramir offered him of the fish he had cooked outside. Another crude candle burned weakly before them.

"Where do you find these?" the elf asked, motioning to the essential light-giving object.

"I make them," Faramir answered. "You know that given enough time, need becomes the greatest of masters."

Legolas indeed knew the truth of this. They sat in companionable silence for a time.

"And so, you intend to carry on in search of him?"

The question caused the elf to still his movements. He placed the crude wooden platter down, crossed his arms over his knees. "I made a promise I cannot break."

Faramir grimaced. "Promises from a different age, principles of another time."

"Not this one," the elf spoke, staring emptily ahead. Images of dark silky hair and sad eyes swam before his vision.

"Few survive the Black Land and fewer still endure its nightmarish ways."

Legolas ran a hand through his unbound hair. "I feel I am close. I only need...," he looked to where _she_ was. "I need a way inside."

Faramir looked distraught then, and a strong pity could be seen in his eyes. "Legolas... I can understand hope, but this... forgive me, and I know your abilities surpass those of many, if not most beings I knew. But this is a dangerous and dare I say... foolish endeavor for one to do alone."

"I feel he lives, Faramir," the elf said with such conviction the old ranger nearly believed him. "I cannot explain nor justify it. But I do, and I am not the only one."

"... the lady Arwen?" the old ranger seemed astonished.

Legolas nodded in confirmation.

Faramir looked into the candle. "Alas, how destinies unfold. To be sundered from one's kind and thrown into a forever wait. Never dying, yet never truly living. Indeed I would feel the most sorrow for your kind if there were any left."

The elf cut through that trail of thought. "I have watched the gate for routine changes and repeatedly assessed the numbers flowing to and fro. I only need-"

"He watches the gate," came a new voice, causing elf and man to turn their heads. "There is no way as you say, into Mordor through the Black Gate. It is guarded on both sides by many eyes, not least of all His," Kal spoke, and then silence engulfed the shack.

Legolas frowned, not having expected the half-orc to listen to their conversation. "Eavesdropping is not honorable, nor is it wise," he muttered finally, knowing she had done this before.

But Faramir took a different approach. "You are certain of this?"

"As I live and breathe," Kal added, shifting closer to the pair of them from her spot.

The elf observed her movements were not as awkward and hindered as before. He was unsure whether his attempt would bring results, but apparently it had.

"I assume you know of its ways well," Faramir was saying.

Legolas felt unsettled. Why was the mortal encouraging this?

"The earliest years of my life were spent in Núrn, in the southernmost region of the Black Land."

"I have heard of this place," Faramir said thoughtfully.

"Then you probably know its fields are worked by slaves of the empire, producing sustenance for His armies. Eventually, as I grew and was remarked by our leaders as one healthy and strong, I was recruited to serve in the Tower."

Legolas' eyes shot to meet hers for the first time since earlier. Earlier, when he had felt the warmth of her hand over his. He shook both the image and recurring sensation away. "You were in the dark fortress?" his question seemed to come from a place far away, though the elf knew he had uttered it.

"I have toiled in the Tower for years under the service of His alchemists," Kal said, and the elf felt the familiar threads of pain lacing her words.

He tore away from those unusual eyes, orbs akin to burning embers. Legolas set his attention on the old ranger, finding him rapt with honest curiosity.

"We cleaned their chambers, the libraries, what was left of their experiments in the laboratories, as they called them..." Kal ceased speaking.

Looking back to her, the elf saw the remnants of the past, and fear growing in magnitude behind her eyes. Her dark hair tumbled out of her braid into a black mass over her shoulders and down her back as the half-orc brought her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

They listened in silence, looking to the one who had seen more than they. For neither had been on the other side of the gates, and none met any who have escaped to tell of it.

"And there was no way, no path to escape?" Faramir hedged, his voice having lost of its bite towards her, and void of any sort of wit.

Kal snorted a mirthless laugh. "From the Tower? He dwells there. His eyes are everywhere. I have never seen Him but... one cannot help but feel when He is close."

The quiet of the night was pierced by the lowly sound of a pained animal somewhere in the distance.

"They beat us repeatedly. They... forced themselves on those who served them," Kal ceased then, her hand caught in warm fur, her heart struggling to suppress the dread of the reminiscence. Then Eron whimpered and drew closer into her. The wolf was there, providing unknowing but much-needed support. It aided in staying balanced. Perhaps she had said too much for them to care. But it mattered not now. "There were days, when I wished to die, the only hindrance being I had not found any poison or weapon at hand or had nothing to trade for them. It was usually the case by the time I gained courage. And then, somehow I never achieved it. Some had. But I lived and was eventually drafted into His army. My fortune, if one could call it such, was that I was still alive when they began their efforts to gather new recruits among the slaves and prisoners, when the time came to set out farther into the world. We were nothing but property to them. And some fared worse than others. The orc, the Uruk-Hai were our masters. The Haradrim and Easterlings and other men ran to do their bidding, ever turning on their own kind."

Legolas listened for any sign to foretell dishonesty in her breathing or the tone of her words. It did not come.

"As for the Tower, it much depended on the manner of cruelty and mind of the alchemists on the floor you were assigned to. They bred soldiers," she looked to Legolas, who did not meet her gaze, "out of elves and other captures, but elves were the most sought for their resistance, it was rumored."

The elf nimbly rose from his spot. "I will take watch."

"My friend, that is not necessary, it would be my turn for the night-" Faramir tried.

"I will do it," were the last words he heard before the elf disappeared, leaving man and child with the half-orc.

"Was he always like this?" Kal was asking with a frown.

Faramir regarded the half-orc with mild curiosity. His grey eyes had lost of their hardness. "Before, when the world was unturned and hope existed, we were all quite different." He leaned back against the makeshift wall. "None more than he." And the old ranger said no more on the matter.

"Will you tell me of Gondor? Of the old kingdoms?" Kal dared ask, and meeting his eyes she saw surprise etched on the ranger's features. In the end he lowered his head.

"Anything in particular you would like to know, Kal of Mordor? Or shall I begin with its history?" Faramir asked, his fingers running through Celeg's unruly hair. The boy had leaned into his grandfather and his lids were heavy, foretelling slumber.

"How did they come to be? And where did the elves come about in this tale? How is it that your kindreds are so different in strength and length of life?"

Faramir looked at Kal as she began to pour question after question, and the widening remnant of a smile spread across his stern features.

* * *

The night had turned colder and stood cloaked by a heavy mist. A reddish sky poured over the land and at times foul smells would permeate the air.

From his crouched position atop the improvised and sheltered roof of the structure wherein Faramir and Kal stood, the elf could hear all that was being said. Not an end goal, but it aided, if poorly. It proved a respite against allowing thoughts of past failures to take hold. And they ever did, night after night.

She was truly interested in the goings of the world. A curiosity only seen in younglings as the elf recalled.

Such different origins, hard lives on either side, with many opposed values. And here they were, beings none would expect under the same roof. Sharing tales.

He sighed, irked at the unseemly situation. The world had long since turned foul, and this should do little to surprise him. And yet.

The elf looked to his hand, curling it into a fist. Legolas closed his eyes in recollection of the unwanted warmth traveling up his arm. He shook his head and instead looked to the cold dark mass burdening the world. There were no lights, no sign of the Kindler. He had not seen them in so long a time. It felt as though ages had passed with these endlessly empty skies. Gone were the golden fields and fresh forests, of wild fen and rich wood. His own home, once green and great, abandoned to time, now only as green as the memory of it.

He shuddered. It had appeared so, once more, thrumming with life before his eyes. Seldom did he allow such memories to resurface, as they only lengthened the grief and shadowed his mood. But today-

Today, a stranger hailing from the Black Land had breached his mind and memory just as he was aiding with her wound. He had begun the healing attempt in thought, expecting no return. And then the elf had seen this thought, his own, free, flowing through her eyes. He had no wish to connect with anyone in any way, shape, or form, and it never usually happened without his will. More so, it had been endless years since it had occurred last.

But when the elf removed his hand and she caught it, grasping it with such mindless eagerness to her chest, he had been astounded, at first. Then he had been angry. With himself, for not seeing to his own. And now, though grudgingly holding fast against it, he was afraid.

This creature. Blood of his tortured kin ran through her veins and he anticipated, eagerly, being rid of her as soon as the possibility arose.

His hand went to his neck, fingers reaching for the warm stone at his breast. If only...

The elf dared not finish that thought, as often happened. His innermost self shifted, where he felt sore and exposed, and the void gaped back at him. A chasm he beheld and had searched for meaning many, many times before.

_A half-breed of Mordor, _the stubborn thought reemerged.

Legolas breathed in deeply, adjusting to the quiet of the night. _And now you hold proof of the other half._

The elf stirred into a cross-legged position, his head in his hands.

_Such a thing cannot be._

His keen eyes then followed the whispers of the wind, searching, sifting through the darkness without. The void churned.

_It cannot._


	19. Divided we fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The M rating may show in this chapter. Possible triggers below (references to blood/violence).

Her scimitar slashed through the air in sharp rippling sounds. The wound had near completely healed, to no small bewilderment on her part. Kal wondered how much the ranger's salve had helped to that effect, its potency a new marvel to her mind. And yet, at times the freshness of endless green still floated across the canvas of her thoughts.

Kal shook her head. Now the focus was on more pressing matters. The stiffness in her shoulder area had to be abated. The elf had told her they would set out again, and soon. The half-orc wanted to be at the ready and prove as little of a burden as possible, as last she needed were more sour words from the sprite.

Positioned as she was not far from the shelter of the old ranger, Kal tried a double-handed strike with her blade. So focused she was on her movements that she barely noticed Celeg.

She turned in a swift pivot, the wide blade landing with its curved tip just before his eyes. "Oh, it is you," she drew back and lowered the weapon, bemused when the child smiled in lieu of being frightened. It seemed a world away from the confusion and fear of their first encounter.

"I see he has taught you courage," Kal followed before noticing the child held a fare of sorts in one of his hands.

"What is this you bring?" she asked as the boy opened his now upturned fist.

Kal saw what appeared to be berries of some kind. They were of a brownish-green hue and dried. She met the smiling eyes of the boy then saw him take a piece and throw it into his mouth.

"I see," her lips curled into a small smile. Kal reached and took of the offering, her mouth pursing at the sour taste. But it was strangely filling. She took another, her golden yellow irises following the growing grin on Celeg.

He then went away only to return, a long wooden staff in hand.

Her eyebrows shot upward. "What ever are you doing?"

Celeg wasted no time pointing the staff her way with a few flourished swipes.

"Impressive. Now look here, this is a proper warming sequence," and she proceeded to demonstrate instructions as the boy attempted to mirror her movements.

"Not doing too badly, Celeg," a familiar voice cut to them, and Kal met the eyes of Faramir. He was propped with his shoulder against a nearby tree, observing them.

_What am I doing?_ Kal looked to the child briefly, then recalling memories of her own hard and wearisome training years.

"Captain," she greeted. In a strange understanding of sorts, the half-orc and former ranger of Gondor had spoken quite often since the night things somehow thawed between them. She would tell him of Mordor, and the lives of people she had seen there. He seemed most surprised that there was life, earthly real and soulful life within the Black Land, however miserable. And then he would tell her of the world, its past glories and hurts, and of its peoples.

It had been the most unusual of developments.

Kal was rather fain to sustain this way of things. For one, it served her. But then there was more to it. The weak light of the flame in the evenings, as it reflected in his light colored eyes when the old human spoke lost in memory. The boy, curling up against him at first, and then at times to her. It was a new but ever brimming change within her, and the half-orc found she was rather pleased with those moments. Then she awaited them. It was only them, and at times the elf. But that one stood silent as the depths of the earth, and every so often left them to spend his night alone somewhere in the surrounding wilds. She did not dwell on it too much. Even now he was gone, where to she knew not, but her pride stood in the way of asking Faramir.

"If this is the style and level of sword skill they teach in that Black Land of yours, I am surprised it still stands," she caught the old man say.

Far from feeling slighted, Kal grinned in a way that made the ranger cross his arms. "I could do with a bit of practice," she pointed her scimitar at the human.

"Such hideous weapons, these," he looked to her blade before heading within, only to return with a long scabbard in hand. The hilt of a blade shone bright in the dim light.

"This did not fare so well last time," Kal jested as the old man drew his blade and walked towards her.

"Are you afeared?" he grinned at her.

"Not so easily riled, Gondorian," Kal returned, "I merely hope your control with the blade is as good as your skill with the bow."

"Come, orcling, let us see what that half-blood is good for."

She lunged at him.

This dance lasted for a few hours, scimitar clashing against long sword, by which time both were panting and Celeg was clapping eagerly. Though age made him slower, the human held himself in good form with his swipes and parries and boasted impressive endurance.

"Not terrible, for a hatchling of Mordor," the old captain said.

"Not good enough, for a famed captain of Men," Kal rebutted, even as her eyes fell on the approaching figure of the elf. His bow and quiver of arrows were about him, and she nearly scoffed when seeing her dagger at his belt. _An unlikely thief, but a thief nonetheless._

"I will head in search of fish towards that side of the river," he pointed to his intended direction, nodding to Faramir by way of greeting.

"Wait, I am coming with," Kal elected to join him, having thought to take a few turns swimming in the river either way. And now there was usefulness to it.

The elf merely glanced her way with hardened eyes, but in the end nodded for her to follow.

* * *

He mostly fared from tree to tree, only landing to the ground a few times on their way and then for sparse moments.

Kal was beginning to regret leaving the company of Faramir. She had learned so much, and it left a lasting mark in how open and noble humans could be.

Noble. She had learned to place many names to many notions indeed during this time in unwelcome seclusion with none but a Gondorian and an elf.

_Elves._ Then she recalled a tale shared the previous night.

"Are you of the high elves?" the half-orc asked without preamble as Legolas was aiming for the canopy of trees again.

Kal thought there was a slight hitch in his step. "What?"

"The old man, he told me of the high elves, and the first kindreds," she continued.

"It seems the captain has been busy," Legolas said distractedly as he resigned himself to walking by her side. He looked into her waiting stare, then back ahead. "If you must know, that distinction would apply to the ones who have seen the light of Aman. Those who settled in the Undying Lands, and their descendants. But most have long since sailed back to Aman, even before the second marring of Arda."

"Aman?"

"The place of the Lords of the West."

"And who are they?"

"You boast none too few questions today," the elf murmured tiredly.

"Will you begrudge me my wish for knowledge?" Kal returned, reminding herself that this was not Faramir.

The ranger had unexpectedly shared plenty a tale of the_ old world_ as she knew it, and most nights were spent with Kal learning pieces from the histories of Middle-earth. She had been astonished at first by his openness, considering the circumstances of their encounter. And yet, again she felt that sliver of gratefulness to the stranger who had shown her the world mirrored in his eyes.

The elf was silent for a while. "Those whom elves refer to as the Valar were the Powers of Arda, the ones who shaped the world. And ruled it for a time." _Before they had all but abandoned it, _he wanted to add, but did not.

"So then... The Other, whom the Dark One served-"

"Morgoth was a Vala himself, in the very beginning. But then he fell, driven by the dissonance of his own pride and greed. And his words seduced your former master, down with him into the deeps of his marred goals."

Kal fell into thoughtful musing. "So they were all driven by the same will, once. Not so described in the archives of the Tower," she shook her head.

"Of course, it would not be," the elf said looking to his left. "You know how to read?"

His question was unexpected. "Does that astonish you?"

When he said nothing Kal continued. "One of the Tower had taught me. He would then forbid me to exercise the skill, but I found ways to get to the tomes."

"You seem resourceful." It did not sound like praise.

Kal thought it odd of him to say such, unless he were mocking her. "One would have to be, in such a place, would you not say so? Either way, to return. Then there were the First Children," she carried forward.

"That... there were," Legolas acceded absently.

She hesitated before repeating her previous question. "Are you of the high elves, then?"

"No, I was born long into the ages of Arda. I suppose I would still be considered young, for an elf."

_Arda? _But instead she settled for asking, "How young?"

"I fail to see how that aids in forwarding your knowledge of the world," Legolas added faintly as to himself, one corner of his lips curling slightly.

"It does, of course it does. Have I ever met elves before? Besides, it aids in knowing more of you," Kal said before her mind caught with her tongue, and somehow, the memory of his foreign touch resurfaced; along with the lights, the lit arches and fresh forests. It was all so vivid yet.

Legolas had ceased his stride and faced her. He appeared unsettled, and it did not escape her notice, though she also knew asking of it would be fruitless. "I see little use in that, since we are soon to part ways," he said evenly, and Kal thought there was a new shadow flitting across his face. It could have been a trick of the light.

"Are we not to speak of it, then?" she hedged, feeling a bothersome trepidation when met with that icy gaze.

A line tightened in his jaw or she imagined it. "Speak of what?" the elf asked blankly.

Kal blinked at his wooden words. Had she been the only one to feel it, to see it? But she had to at least hear such from him. "When I was wounded, and you-" but her thought was severed by the sudden change in his demeanor.

Legolas had gone very still, and was assessing their whereabouts intently with sharpened senses, his gaze flitting to the right.

"What is the matter?" Kal asked, the change in him alarming. "Legolas!" she called and rushed after the elf, who wordlessly darted like an arrow through the woods.

As they ran Kal attuned her eyes and ears, and began to hear what had unsettled the elf so deeply. Though barely audible at this range, and indistinguishable, Kal still recognized the cadence. A foreboding dread choked her insides, and her limbs felt weak and trembling. As they ran towards the shack the scent of smoke permeated the air. It grew thicker and thicker, until her dread became desperation, and her legs gained in speed to surpass the elf. _The old man. The boy! Eron!_

But just as she beheld what was afoot her flight came to an abrupt end and Kal only barely sensed it was the elf hindering her, his arm strong around her waist. Through widened eyes Kal saw dirty manes, black armor, white and red war paint and heard the growling of her nightmares, then found the specters of her past.

Before them, the shack lay in a ruined, smoldering heap.

Her angry cry of surprise was swiftly palmed by his hand, even as Kal began to struggle. "Silence," the elf growled in her ear, holding her fast and dragging her back after him.

But the half-orc thrashed wildly and would not cease, wanting to reach them, to hinder them-

She noticed the still heap one Uruk-hai was kicking. Then the other. She recognized that cloak, her inside crumbled in on itself. A blackness veiled her vision, and with renewed strength Kal elbowed the elf powerfully in the ribs, managing to escape his grasp and run forward.

Kal heard him before she saw him. She would know that foul mouth anywhere, in any time and age.

_Gurthok_.

She caught a glimpse of his bloodied weapon as another orc dragged a whimpering but living Eron after in a heavy chain. The Uruk commander was growling orders for them to head towards the Gate, having finished scouring the edges of the river for strays.

"This one we'll at least train," one Uruk she did not remember muttered in the Black Speech, kicking the growling wolf.

With reddened eyes and gnashing teeth Kal drew her weapon and lunged towards them, intent on laying waste upon the wretches. She felt stronger than ever before, her ire feeding her vitality-

Only to be thwarted again, and this time mercilessly thrown to the ground.

"Release me, you blasted elf! They will... they must not escape, release me!" she hissed before a hand was once again clamped over her mouth. She felt the weight of him, overwhelming her flailing attempts.

"I said, _be silent_," Legolas gritted, "There are too many of them," he followed. "You stand no chance," he aimed to keep her still, his other arm wrapped around her as the elf pressed into her back and trapped her legs with his.

Kal cursed him in her mind, wanting nothing less than payment for their deeds. Eternity passed with the moment as she struggled halfheartedly. She was eventually roughly pulled to her feet.

The half-orc wrenched herself from the elf with a shudder. She gained her stance and ran towards what remained of the shack, now abandoned by the dark ones who had set well on their way.

Shaking, she fell before the larger heap, saw white hair mottled with blood. She gingerly revealed his face. A harrowing winded screech was heard, and Kal dimly realized it had come from her.

Legolas had placed his fingers to the man's vital signs and shook his head as Kal ran to the smaller heap. A slight bare hand protruded lifelessly from the still form.

She smoothed his hair and driven by she knew not what, reached and closed his eyes. The half-orc rose then, her panting breath deafening to her ears.

"You!" she accused, whirling towards the elf. "I could have had their hides! You purposely foiled me, why?" she demanded, taking one step towards him and turning the scimitar in her hand.

"Do not succumb to anger. Think. You were sorely outnumbered. You were running to your death," Legolas stated calmly, though his own posture was still arched for battle as they began circling each other.

That caused ire to rise. "And what is that to you, elf?!"

He stopped short and stood motionless, watching her with that same infuriatingly blank expression. "It is everything to _you_."

She bristled, maddened by his eerie stillness. Did he not see what had just passed? "You prevented me from dealing the only justice they would _ever_ have!" Justice. Another word acquired from the old ranger. She blinked the wetness away. And threw herself at him.

The elf nimbly avoided her slashing strike and struck powerfully in her side. She lost her balance and momentum, dropping her weapon. Kal turned to him, angrier than before-

And the elf was suddenly in front of her, so close Kal winced. "And what is your plan, fool?" he asked sharply, advancing as she took hesitating steps back, confused and hapless. His eyes were a storm reminding her of their first confrontations. "Ambush them? Aim to defeat an entire company of Uruk-hai on your own?" His lip curled in dismissal, and his words were resolute. "You cannot even claim to best me." Kal drew away with a hiss, only to be pulled back in an unwavering grip on her arm. "You would so readily renounce your life? That _new_ life you so wished for yourself?" he drawled coldly.

If the words were meant to mock, they succeeded as her anger only surged. "And you would leave them unavenged?" Kal threw into his face.

"Stand down, Kal," the elf warned, though not as harshly as before. All the same, she could tell it was not a request.

But it was difficult to see anything aside from her own fury, and it brought forward all the helplessness she had ever felt. "Craven that you are," she spat before checking her words, a rictus on her face, baring her fangs to him.

"Stand. Down." There was nothing to rival the sharp edge to his words now, save perhaps the voice which had so tortured her in the shadowed recesses of the Tower. It spoke of one accustomed to the highest ranks of command, and it was final.

The grip on her was become painful with another tug even as Kal tried to resist him, and despite the increasing ache in her shoulder she was satisfied to see her words stung as intended.

Driven, she tried to strike him, wanting to claw at those strange unblinking eyes.

But the elf caught her by the wrist just as swiftly, and soon Kal was lost in a futile attempt to wrest herself free. She struggled and seethed and cursed him, until after a cold shift in time, her anger diminished. All that remained was exhaustion. She ceased fighting and pushing against him. "Your... people... they were your people... you would allow..." she panted, her head lowering.

When Kal felt the pressure on her wrists lessen she pulled her arms away. But instead of righting herself and pacing back, beyond reason she fell forward into him, depleted and weary of struggle, trembling incessantly.

When her forehead rested against him, her sobs low and hitched, he did nothing. He merely stood there, watching the pieces falling. He had witnessed and experienced loss many times during his own life. For him this was, more or less, a continuous state of being. Not so for her.

Kal let herself wallow, and her short shuddering breaths filled the silence between them. She had never felt as utterly defeated. With little awareness the half-orc brought her palm to his chest, clutching at the material as if to ward away the bothersome jolts wracking her. She could not seem to cease.

One thought burned. She had not even said her farewells. Soon Kal was silenced altogether, her body losing of its turmoil, the hand clutching his garb her sole support. "Why does this happen?" she croaked. "Why does it all come to ruin?" the half-orc asked when she could, her face warm and wet.

"I wish I knew, Kal." Had she not been drowning in her own grief, Kal might have heard the different quality to his voice.

After a time, she looked back into his face, and was met with dark, unrelenting depths. "I will end them," she rasped.

Her cold determination smoldered and consumed in waves. This one was of both shadow and light, and it seemed to him they raged to overcome one another. He felt it. He felt _her_, and she was desperate. And this, somehow, kept his own loss at bay. He could not wallow, not now. "Rhaweth-," the elf began without thought in his own language, before stopping himself. His mind was void of any comfort, nor indeed could he offer any, and he fell silent again.

"I will follow them," she said firmly then. "With or without you," Kal repeated, unsure why she even said such. She needed to hear it herself, perhaps. The silence lengthened.

"I know," she heard finally.

Half of her face was now pressed into him. Her eyes closed. It reeked of death and burnt remains around them. Shaking lightly, Kal drifted towards a strange rhythmic warmth, realizing it came from him. But nothing could abate the growing need for reprisal. She slowly relinquished the grip on his tunic, her hand fallen to her side. "Forgive me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Rhaweth" = Wild one (Sindarin)


	20. Passed like rain

A terrible roar was heard from without, where the armies chanted their dreadful creed. "We are Uruk-hai!" could be heard ringing in the weary ears of all, and hands trembled on spears, and eyes sought others in their fretful wait.

He barely made his way to the rear-gate.

"Things go ill, my friends," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm.

"Ill enough," said Legolas, "but not yet hopeless, while we have you with us."

The walls crumbled, the armies disappeared.

He was alone.

Her gaze was hopeful and lost when meeting his own. "The Shadow does not hold sway yet..." her hand gently clasped his. "Not over you and not over me."

His eyes flew open. As always with these hopeless wanderings, his mind conjured the past in the most unlikely of ways. But now all was engulfed in the reddish fog before him yet again. He knew the monster wished for this to happen, for it would summon terrors of the worst ilk from the remnants of his memories.

And still, he would try, over and over. He would think of them, attempting to reach and feel more than the bonds so tightly wound around his spirit, suffocating his will in an agonizingly slow but sure slithering process.

"How disappointing... have we been attempting to reach them, again?" a voice raked within him in mock distress, and claws speared his consciousness. "Who was it?" the metallic voice gritted. Then a brief gust of poisonous winds whirled and burnt against his skin, and with it, a russet-haired figure was come before him. "When will you learn?" the Dark Lord grinned. "I see your mind," he added with a spiteful smile, claws grazing his temple even as the man pulled sharply away. "There is nothing, nothing you can hide from the Eye, heir of Elendil."

A long pale hand reached to cup his face, and the one once known as Aragorn gritted his teeth against the surge of overwhelming power released through the touch. A thousand needles pierced his inner walls, crumbling his weakened resolve, and once again the Shadow saw it all. "But now that you have begun, let us send it forward."

A strong force threw his mind into yet another restless journey, and his thought from before was ripped and thrown whereto he knew not. The aged and diminished man thrashed, his face glistening with fever from the effort it took to have his thought speared forward into the ether. He struggled in his chains, wishing for death anew, as he had countless times before.

"Fear not, all will come to pass as woven," the tall one spoke now looking beyond the Tower, to the West.

Slitted eyes then fell on him, and the Dúnadan was again shaken by the sharp contrast between that fair form and the blackest of hate.

"Indeed, it has already begun," Sauron said. A clawed hand arrayed in black and steel made circular motions into the ghostly fumes ever wafting through the air.

An image was conjured before them, and the former steadfast ranger of the North felt his heart wither. But he would not beg. He would never beg.

"I might have you all join me before long," the pale one said, staring into the shivering grey vision. His amber eyes narrowed in a pleased manner as he beheld the barely distinguished figures moving through shadow and mire, and he grimly spoke as to himself. "In your own time, Kalghâshaure..."

* * *

Dusk was upon them by the time elf and half-orc had finished digging a hole deep enough to use for burial. Kal panted with the effort, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She then focused her vision on the black emptiness, where two lifeless forms were lain to rest.

When the half-orc had regained her composure well enough, both travelers assessed the destruction of the small homestead. They noticed three dead Uruk-hai, strewn across the ground near the bodies of Faramir and Celeg. The blade, the one the ranger had used to spar with Kal that very day, lay beside him.

At the very least, he fought his way into death but that was no comfort; not to them, and not to those lying dead at their feet.

As Kal stood crouched at the edge of the grave she was taken from her thoughts by a low and gentle humming.

There were words, but not spoken as one would to another. They wound together and soared, silent and crestfallen into the advancing night. She had heard this type of expression before, from the human slaves wishing away their pain.

Looking to Legolas, the half-orc saw his eyes were also set on the still bodies, placed side by side together in the hollow ground.

A spot near the river bank was chosen as their final resting place, under a gnarled and bent willow tree. _His wife is buried under one similar tree, _Kal had remembered from a previous time, when she had heard the ranger speak of his family. The elf had only nodded and so they set to work.

And now words she would never understand reached her ears, sifting through her weary mind and grieved chest. They were soothing, and clear and yet carried such a burden of emotion Kal bent in on herself with dread.

And they reminded her of that night.

_Not now. Now is not the time._

When his voice broke she lifted not her head. Her eyes trailed over the still features of the old ranger then moved to regard the serene face of the boy, so youthful and appearing as though he were in a fitful rest. Yet the deathly pallor about him was unmistakable.

They had washed their faces and shrouded both man and child in their own tattered cloaks. The sword Kal had wiped of black blood and was now placed in its scabbard at his breast.

She heard the elf murmur words foreign and subdued, but her gaze stayed on the pair.

Kal then saw movement from the corner of her eyes as Legolas rose to one knee and reached for the rough shovel beside him.

"Wait," she suddenly spoke, causing the elf to look her way.

She stood hesitant at first. Then Kal drew her scimitar, staring long at the blade. Not her own, but one which she knew had seen much bloodshed and carved through many lives. She then looked ahead to the darkened waters.

Holding it with both hands, with a fast pivot towards the bank Kal hurled the weapon well yonder with all her might, and stood watching as it was swiftly swallowed by the flowing river. She turned to the elf who still knelt beside the grave, now regarding her with that unreadable expression she had come to know.

The half-orc saw him nod, slowly, once, and only then did Kal kneel back down herself, and with trembling hands retrieved the sword lying with the remains of Faramir. She held it to her chest and bowed her head, then cinched the item to her belt. She looked back at Legolas.

They watched each other in silence, and through red-rimmed eyes Kal only then saw the torn look lingering behind his. Gone were the hard stares and stony facade. She saw the stiffness of his pose, the fisted hands with their unnaturally whitened knuckles propped against the ground. And for a sudden, fleeting moment which left her wondering whether it had even occurred, Kal thought she felt a different sort of pain. And it ran deeper, darker, and more withering than anything she had ever known, or fathomed.

In a haze, there came an impulse to reach for the other. It was so strong and overwhelming that indeed Kal rose slowly and took one step forward, but then it dwindled and was gone, as if heavy foreboding bars were set against the urge.

What the elf had done earlier aided her, more than she had ever expected. Earlier, when he was steadying her, and she could only draw closer into him. And the strength seeping through his hand when the elf had then placed it to her shoulder brought forth what she needed to finally right herself, for all the draining quality of her ire at the strange new reality they faced.

She wanted the same for him. Where this wish came from, she knew not. But his eyes were now wary as they stared into the depths of hers. And so Kal stood wavering, unmoving, watching him watching her, until after many moments the elf finally averted his gaze and rose to reach for the shovel.

As earth covered the still bodies with each toss of the shovel Kal felt as though she were being buried with them, and would feel this way for a long time to come. She remembered herself and set to aid in filling the grave with black soil. When they were done there was little to suggest the nature of the mound, but the pair stood silently gazing at the stooping, swaying branches of the willow tree.

Much time passed as night fell well over the land. The hoarse cry of an unknown beast echoed through their surroundings.

Kal felt the elf turn and move away, heading back towards the woods.

"Come," she heard his quiet and somewhat softened voice, and with one last lingering gaze towards the mound, she followed.

They came to walk side by side and Kal looked to the elf. When their eyes locked she knew their goal was set, and shared. She felt both driven and downcast at the words that followed.

"Now, we hunt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter I used a couple of literal passages from the books/movies. Why did you do it, Ruiniel? I wanted his memories, and I wanted them to be something the reader knows well and can relate to. I just don't know, it felt right. I sometimes also use lyrics from well-known songs found in Tolkien's writing for chapter titles. But this is fan fiction, meaning there's no profit to come of it so not worth suing me, lol?
> 
> "Things go ill, my friends," he (Aragorn) said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm.
> 
> "Ill enough," said Legolas, "but not yet hopeless, while we have you with us."
> 
> \- The Two Towers, chapter 'Helm's Deep'
> 
> "The Shadow does not hold sway yet..." her hand gently clasped his. "Not over you and not over me."
> 
> \- Arwen and Aragorn speak, The Fellowship of The Ring


	21. A deadly sword, a healing hand

They crouched descended close to each other, hidden by the underbrush away from the risen Uruk-hai camp.

"Fifteen of them," Legolas whispered.

"They leave on the morrow. Here is the only place we could do this without raising early suspicion, to buy us time between kills," Kal put forward concerned. "Unless you wish for us to follow them farther and deeper back into Ithilien." Of course, none wanted that to pass.

The pair had trailed the Uruk company and followed from afar, reaching their proximity before they raised camp. The elf boasted impressive tracking skills that surpassed hers, a fact that both irked and intrigued Kal. But they finally arrived. And whatever happened, she would have Gurthok. She only hoped, that he would fall on her blade. "Their leader is mine to fell," Kal told the elf, who looked at her with a dark stare.

"Keep your head about you," Legolas only said, then fell silent for a breath. "And stay where I can see you."

Too tense and afflicted by the impending conflict and blood lust to wonder, Kal only nodded silently, her hand steeled on the grip of Faramir's blade.

And so they went.

One came to be at the far east of their camp, a great sallow-skinned orc. Before he could reveal his purpose a silent blade was at his throat. He only managed a gurgle before landing with a thud onto the faded forest floor.

Legolas pointed towards a spot not far from them before climbing up the tree to his right and moving forward.

_Fourteen._

They had watched to see if the Uruks held other prisoners this time, but the only fare they had seemed to be Eron in shackles, now whimpering lowly, his body strained in defense.

Kal searched the canopy for the elf and saw him leading to her following target. Her quiet steps made not even the slightest sound as the half-orc neared two Uruk carrying what looked to be a carcass away from the encampment.

"Ak, I take the upper half, ya had yer fare last time," one of them belched into the hissing stare of the other. But no retort ever came for its head soon lolled at the other's feet, and the last image the remaining Uruk saw was of Kal, her blade slashing through its neck.

As the two bodies fell at her feet she looked upward again where Kal knew Legolas had gone to guide them anew. They exchanged a swift glance in the darkness. He would take the following ones.

_Twelve, _Kal counted, her chest strained from the pummeling force of the beats within.

They fell seven foes in number using stealth and silent attacks. Where he led she would stand watch, and then their roles reversed. Kal was relieved to see the intrinsic and natural collaboration between them in battle put to good use, in aid of this oddly uneven fight.

The elf landed silently to her side and they beheld the remainder of the camp.

She saw them. Their low and seething gazes, their purposeless gait. Their empty resent for all things living.

_How am I one of them?_

"I do not see Gurthok," she whispered unto the elf. "But the one there, Kroznak. Take heed of him, he is fell and honorless in battle."

"There is the wolf," Legolas added, seeing Eron chained to a spear plunged deeply into the ground.

Her eyes narrowed, the memory of those they ruined rising in her mind like a bruise. "I go to distract them, and you shoot your arrows," Kal put forward.

"There are too many, Kal," Legolas shook his head. "But," he relented, "they will grow suspicious of their companions soon." He hesitated. "We must attempt now." While the ruse was yet on their side.

The half-orc agreed, their eyes locking briefly before she made to move.

"A moment," the elf called and took her arm, causing Kal to cease mid-stride. He reached and removed her dagger from his belt. "You may need this," he presented the blade for her to take.

Though astonished, Kal shook her head. "You also have need of a weapon-"

"I will manage well enough with the bow. Go," he urged and finding no time to argue Kal swiftly assessed the surrounding peril, and dove ahead into uncertainty.

She caught one unawares. Her sword split him from shoulder to hip, and Kal did not even see his remains fall lifelessly to the ground before another was upon her. The sound alerted the rest.

"What in the-?" Kroznak bellowed, coming from between two large black Uruk in mail unsheathing their weapons. His furious eyes fell on Kal, and his face changed in an instant.

"Missed us so much, did ya?" he growled with a yellowed grin revealing uneven teeth. A rotten smile still graced his lips as he went into stance, scimitar drawn. "I knew ye'd be back," he swung his weapon in preparation. "The rest of ya filth fall back," he sneered, his features trapped in a rictus. "Leave the slut to me, -," he made to lunge at Kal when a sharp sound pierced the air.

Kroznak landed before Kal, an arrow shaft embedded between lifeless eyes.

Kal whirled to meet one scimitar then evade another, and soon a third joined the fray roaring that the camp was under attack.

Two fell struck by arrows, while the third still kept the half-orc on edge and ever advanced against her, spewing the foulest and most demeaning things in the Black Speech. Kal fought her way until one err on the Uruk's side allowed her a sweep of the sword. She cut mercilessly through his arm. Her foe faltered and fell back, and Kal was atop him, her dagger slashing at his throat.

"Gurthok!" she howled. Her voice came hoarse and strange. Where was the filth?

Panting she rose and it was not a moment too soon before Kal was knocked back to the ground. Her head throbbed with pain slithering down her spine, and the sword flew from her hand. Vaguely could the half-orc hear the whimpering growls of the wolf in the distance.

"Right here!" the Uruk threw, for he had been the one to strike her. And then his eyes fell on her face. Reptilian pupils flared in recognition as Kal righted herself. "Well, well. What a twist! Well met, traitor," he roared, appearing pleased.

Legolas stood still in his place among the sturdy branches, his bow taut with an arrow nocked and aimed between the eyes of the Uruk commander. His fingers itched to release, but the elf recalled what she had asked of him before. This one was hers. Legolas breathed deeply, imagining many outcomes and following Kal in her movement. She was reckless and she was rash. She was too bold, too loyal. Another heartbeat passed. If it came to ill, requests be damned he would shoot.

"You remember me," Kal hissed in the face of her foe, circling him slowly after retrieving her blade. Finally, here was the chance of peace. Once this was done, things would be as before.

"I'd know yer stench anywhere, turncoat. Where is that elf, hidin' behind yer skirts? Was it him who felled my men? Elf!" he bellowed mockingly. "Ya watchin'? Here to see what shapes I carve into yer whore?" the Uruk slithered, his powerful thighs coiled on the offensive.

Blade against blade collided even as more of the remaining Uruk ran towards the fighting pair. Kal was overwhelmed but for a sliver of time before the creatures fell, with similarly well-aimed shafts embedded in their backs.

"You, are nothing," Gurthok goaded as his blade struck heavily, forcing Kal on the defensive. "Always were, always will be. And I will send ya back to nothing," he taunted, even as Kal employed her lightest footwork to evade him. She attacked again, and again, while the Uruk kept her at bay with a grin. When he ventured a sudden swipe she was nearly too slow to avoid the swing to her face.

Slowly on the retreat, Kal still met his low blows and attacks as she could, until wearied and disheveled her legs tripped over a fallen body.

Gurthok was fast advancing and an arrow to his chest did little to deter him. "That the most ya can muster, elf?" he cried to the trees, his eyes on Kal as he thrust the arrow deeper into the wound, slowly until it reached the other side. Then he was advancing towards her even as Kal drew back, her sword abandoned a way to her left.

Her eyes were drawn by the appearance of the elf, now descended swift as a shadow before her. Their gazes met briefly as Kal felt him draw the dagger from her belt, turning in time to barely block the wide scimitar of Gurthok.

"There ya are!" the Uruk savagely swung his weapon, the dark metal slashing a mere breath from the elf's chest.

They paced around each other. Legolas had but one arrow left, and the Uruk commander was yet too close for his bow. And still, retreat he could not. He saw Kal scramble to retrieve her sword before the Uruk was upon him again, cursing and damning his kind. "Weak, sniveling creatures," Gurthok sneered. "This time, there will be no escape. Not for yer hide," he aimed at the elf's shoulder. "And not for the half-breed slut," he finished with another heavy pivot.

His taunting went unheeded. Just as metal hissed against metal, the slighter blade of his dagger sliding against the hooked blade of the Uruk, Legolas placed his full strength against the beast and sought to deflect. But with blinding speed, Gurthok thrust forward and dazed him, and the elf was thrown to the ground with the impending blade ready to cleave him. The final blow never came.

With all the might she could muster and clutching Faramir's sword with two hands Kal had surged ahead, spearing the weapon fully between the shoulder blades of the Uruk commander, pushing through his chest. "You have met this blade before," she panted, forcing the weapon deeper and twisting. "Remember Gondor," Kal choked, wanting these to be the last words her enemy would ever hear.

Gurthok produced a stunted garbled sound, and his pale lips stained black with choking blood. His movements slackened.

Legolas swiftly rolled out of his way as the large Uruk fell forward, Faramir's blade still sheathed deep into his flesh.

Kal fell to the ground and each breath proved a mighty effort as she watched the lifeless head of Gurthok.

Legolas listened for any sound in the aftermath, looking to where the fell company all lay dead.

"We did this," Kal hushed in disbelief, her gaze unfocused. This was no vision. The odds had been against it, and yet they were alive. Kal looked to Legolas, the meaning brimming in her eyes, and they took the stillness which followed for a long while. Then the sounds of wailing coming from Eron retrieved her mind from her battle state at the borders of dreaming, and she rushed to free him.

Then all Kal would recall was a haze, where the elf would at times ask her questions she barely heard before striving for a coherent answer. She seemed to ebb and flow like strange tides on an empty sea.

They left the bodies where they lay. Reaching the Anduin on their return, each silently retreated to their own mind. Kal broke away from the path to be alone.

She washed her face and hands in the river. The sword followed. Her mind was empty of thought, frozen somewhere in time and her body was yet fringed with trepidation. _I live. Somehow, I still do. _Eron pushed against her, eager to be reunited with his companions, before running back in search of the other. Where the elf had gone, she knew not. Sighing Kal realized how beyond relieved she was to have the wolf returned to her. It was someone. She closed her eyes.

Then, as overflowing as the river around her Kal surrendered thoughts of all and everything, including the elf stood in the vicinity. She hastily shed her tunic and allowed it to pool down on the bank. Working fingers left her fully bare, and she was soon plunging deeply and carelessly into dark waters.

* * *

When Kal returned she knelt and sought to pile the dry undergrowth to be used for tinder. The elf had chosen an area sheltered by densely strewn trees and changes in ground levels covered with various shades of creeping weeds and yellowing ivy. It had been time for a reprieve after the long trek away from the scene of the fight. The two companions passed the ruined place where Faramir had dwelt on their return, and gathered what could be salvaged of their belongings from the charred rubble. Kal recalled how her chest seized when she again caught sight of what remained of those living in His world, opposing His dominion. Having dared towards a life of their own. And yet, they had been free.

_And what good has it done them?_ Kal smoldered but then shook the thought away. Peril ever loomed ahead of those living as they, and it had all been but a matter of time. Still, a part of her rebelled against this truth. Bent over the small cluster of kindling she pondered so with her thoughts astray, attempting to start a fire.

_Come, you..._

Her movements became more frantic.

_The elf does it easily enough _she grumbled in thought, striking the piece of metal and flint together repeatedly.

They were dead. Every last one of them.

_Then why am I not free?_

Still, her efforts proved fruitless as there were no sparks, and her concentration turned to frustration.

Kal cursed in the tongue of Mordor, still striking the flint angrily.

Hands were placed over hers. "Must you use such speech?" she heard his level voice and lifting her gaze saw the elf facing her closely. He had knelt to the opposite side of her. Looking into his blue-grey stare, Kal was briefly reminded of the flickering lines engraved in the surface of his light irises. Her movements stilled and with a tired sigh, she watched him take the items from her hands.

"It is the first I have known," Kal muttered. "You will not have to bear it much longer," she added, her attention soon set towards finding a resting spot.

The elf bid no reply but successfully kindled a fire within moments, to her pique.

When a flame was lit and stoked he looked back into her lost eyes.

"We have avenged them," said Kal before she could rein the words. "And yet I feel no different."

His face was impassive, but his eyes spoke of it. "Reprisals dealt in anger aid less and less as time wears on."

"Then why did you come, if you so disapprove?"

He looked at her pointedly. "It would have been dishonorable to do otherwise."

Her eyes narrowed, but Kal decided such things as minor hidden motives were of no true consequence now. What she found did matter, was that he _had_ come, and aided her of his own will. Again.

"When does it cease?" she asked instead, her eyes turned to the flames. There was no one else to ask, and what gripped her was unsettling, to say the least. "This heaviness." Surely he was in a similar state, judging by what she had felt of him. Then the half-orc frowned with the certainty that she had indeed _felt_ such strangeness coming from him, though Kal knew not how. But she knew the heavy wave crashing over her when they faced each other, before the grave of Faramir and Celeg.

"The loss stays with you, but its sting will weather with time," the elf said, and Kal was at once grateful for his perceptive words.

It was wearisome to speak of it, but she understood. He knew of this, very well indeed. "Is this the way you feel about the one you seek?"

He nodded in answer. "There is also guilt. I have found no escape from it so that I cannot speak to. But it _is_ the natural way of things to mourn, Kal."

She grimaced. "They only... they did not deserve such an end," Kal faltered for words, her throat suddenly too caught. She remembered the eager eyes of the boy, and it was spiraling downward again. Her head lowered.

"I too grieve their passing," Legolas added, his usual aloofness forgotten.

Kal said nothing.

"And I do not even know if my own search will prove fruitful," he added as to himself.

"And yet, you attempt it," said Kal emptily. None survived so long in the Black Land, be they the most valiant of spirits. She had seen prisoners break, and break they did, many, many times. Perhaps those of elven kind endured longer if shaped from the same mold like this one.

Then despite it all, Kal smiled at a novel thought.

"What?" she heard the question, and looked up in confusion to see his expectant face.

Kal shook her head, hesitant. "It is nothing."

"Your face split in two. I wish to hear."

She sought his eyes for a reason behind his unusual request. Then again, was it so strange to share? "It is only..." her golden eyes caught his again. "Never before have I thought, that I would come to fight at the side of an elf against the forces of the Black Land."

She saw him go still, in astonishment or pain she was unsure. Then before Kal could begin to worry a smile lit his own features, and it was unlike anything the half-orc had ever seen. It made him appear so much more youthful and carefree, his face bereft of its usual sternness. It was a striking change, blooming before her. Uneven beats drumming in her ears, Kal wondered whether this was what he must have been like once, in a different time and age.

"And what if I told you, that you are the second being to tell me such," said the elf then.

She felt her face warming, flushed a reddish tint from the flames. "And what did you respond the first time?" Kal found herself asking.

The elf tilted his gaze to the trees above. "I called him a friend, and then we competed against each other." His smile faded before he looked to Kal again.

"What would you call me, then?" Kal ventured to ask, somehow emboldened by this new manner of his and the change she inexplicably felt in him.

Legolas shifted to settle into a cross-legged position, facing her fully. "What would you consider yourself to be?"

"What I think-..." Kal wavered, though she forfeited the support of the trunk in favor of leaning closer to him.

"You saved my life."

"As did you," Kal found her voice. Why were words so hard to come by now of all times, and speech cumbersome?

"I suppose that is an even draw," his smile returned.

"I would call you a friend," dared Kal, her heart hammering faster in her chest. "If you would."

There was no change in him at her words. "I would certainly try, Kal."

"Then it is settled," she spoke into his amused stare.

The elf scoffed mirthfully even as Kal grinned, crossing her arms. Settled indeed.

Eron gained their attention briefly as he leaped into their midst, come from his hiding in close surroundings. He descended on the opposite side of them, his feral eyes set on their red-lit figures.

He was as wearied as they, Kal knew.

"Kal..." the elf spoke, distractedly watching the darkened boughs of the trees above them.

"Elf?"

"Where will you go?"

There was a brief lull before he heard her voice again.

"Whichever way you point me to. Why?"

"I only ask," he paused, "as I am heading towards a place. It is not completely safe, for nothing ever is. There are more of us. Once there, you may find respite needed to think."

She regaled him with a confused stare.

Legolas was ill-prepared for the manner in which the words had escaped him, but now it was done. "That is, to see what you may want to do, or where to go from there."

"Were you not to return and continue seeking for your friend?" He knew Kal heard his conversation with the ranger either way.

He wanted a way inside. _A way into Mordor. He cannot use the gate. It is folly. _Though it sat ill with her, she dared not tell him. It was not her place. Kal was never to return to that miserable darkness.

"First there is someone I must see." The elf would wonder in the following days how he had been so inclined towards hedging her. He would ponder over what led him to speak the words and dwell on the way she watched him when he did. "If you wish, you may join me."

"What kind of place?" asked Kal. This was not their initial understanding. Why was he offering such? If this place was surely as the elf said, then... But could she trust him? _Did we not just agree to do so?_

Legolas seemed to mull over his words. "One yet hidden from the eyes of Sauron. Though the Shadow strongly believes itself to be all-seeing, there are some who succeed in thwarting him."

"I will consider this," said Kal and on impulse placed her hand over his own. She met his stare evenly. "You will have an answer on the morrow."

Upon hearing this, Legolas hesitatingly aimed to retreat and recline back, when her fingers stiffened over his hand. He felt them gliding up to his wrist, following the swirling lines on his worn leather bracer.

"Are all elvish crafts this... winding?" Kal asked then, inspecting the piece adorning his forearm with true interest.

"I would not know, I have never been an artisan," his voice came as a near whisper, and Kal looked up to find him regarding her strangely.

"So different from the sharp and ragged shapes made use of in the Tower," she said thoughtfully, the patterns unfamiliar to her eyes. She then barely stifled a shudder of fatigue.

"You may want to rest," the elf spoke even as he rose fluidly to his feet, eyeing a branch not far from the spot where the half-orc was to sleep.

"Legolas?"

He looked back to her, silent and expectant.

"Will you not stay below tonight?" Kal asked regarding him from under heavy lids, her hands carelessly lying in her lap. _Only for tonight. Another presence only for tonight._

Admittedly, the simple request unsettled him somewhat. _No, I will not. _But the words failed to come, and the elf found himself slowly striding and descending to rest against a tree not far from her own position.

"Gratitude," Kal said, sounding relieved.

"What for?"

Too many things to mention. "Being here," she settled as her eyes became heavier, and fatigue took complete hold. She heard nothing else by way of a reply, and it was not long before she drifted away from the waking world.

* * *

Sometime in the night, her wails echoed through their surroundings. Subdued and incoherent, but persistent. He thought to leave her be, as many a night before. But now of all times, the elf found he could not do so, and the passing day had been grueling to them both. She deserved proper rest. With this in mind, Legolas rose from his place and silently went to where Kal lay writhing and turning incessantly.

He descended to one knee beside her sleeping form, and for a short while he merely watched.

Her lips were parted, dark red flaming against pale skin. Her hair was unruly and fallen out of her braid, arrayed about her in messy black waves. He saw her brow crease in distress and unseen fear, even as his palm came pressed to her forehead.

No sooner had the elf closed his eyes than he was thrust into what he assumed was her world. It was as before, when he attempted to aid with her wound and myriads of visions had eddied within his mind all at once. But now they were not his own. They were made of fear, and laced with unrest.

An immense adamant corridor, empty but for dimming shadows cast by torchlight. A dim chamber. A figure on their knees. Another, tall and robed in black, looming above the first.

_Kal_, his breath caught. She was cold, deathly cold, and worn.

_"What have we said about begging?"_ the metallic voice hissed and reverberated through him, and the vision of her cowered further, broken as two creatures appeared and forced her on her feet.

_Trolls. _His eyes widened, the vision so vivid in its conjuring the elf was overwhelmed, and had to struggle in closing himself to it all.

Whatever his misgivings, whatever his beliefs, not here should she dwell tonight. Struggling with his own mind Legolas turned his thought to his own home, and times long forgotten. When it was yet a great kingdom at the height of its splendor. To starry skies and peaceful wanderings through tall and lively forests. This time, he hoped it would reach her as before. His reminiscing took him far, to spirited gatherings of his youth, where flame and dance and song meshed together in praise of life.

Gradually, the distressed moans ceased. Her chest soon rose and fell in gentler motions, and her face gained the rare serenity and abandonment of sleep. The shadow of before ceased to meander through him.

_Less risk of being discovered by patrols,_ the elf reasoned, but still his palm lingered, and only late did he see her eyes.

They were now open, regarding him emptily. But though Kal saw him at her side, which proved more unsettling than the elf cared to admit, she said nothing.

Staring into her sleep-glazed eyes he sat frozen, unsure of what to say. Then a lean, dirty hand reached up to his face, and lightly brushed his cheek.

All intent dispersed. He did not move. He could not move.

"Z'ubardh..." Kal mouthed dazedly with a sigh, causing the elf to furrow his brows together. He recognized the language from the way it hissed ill whisperings in his ears and stirred the dread lingering in his center.

It lasted but a moment and was soon forgotten, and her fingers slid down from his face. Her hand dropped to her side, and her eyes fluttered closed as before.

He watched her for a few moments, his breathing deliberate and slow. Then Legolas rose unsteadily, more relieved than he would have thought. He watched her motionless frame. For her, this was merely a dream. As far as he was concerned, there was solace to be had in that.

The elf returned to his place away from where Kal slept, unduly shaken by what he had seen of her mind. Once, he thought her a being merely lost. But instead, he found a growing certainty, and by some twist of fate, their paths had crossed. Since the fall of Arda, he had little faith left in the Powers. But some things apparently could yet grow and flourish unmarred. His eyes followed the rise and fall of her chest from afar in assurance, and his thought turned to the familiar thrum of a kindred spirit.

Would he tell her what she was, if it were indeed his part to tell? Was there good to come of it? The elf glanced into the dying embers of the weakening fire. Unable to rest, he reflected on his thoughts for most of the ensuing night, accompanied by the hissing of a mild wind and the vivid, lingering warmth of her fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Zubardh' = 'Silver one' (Black Speech !non-canon! Alas, we have so little to work with on this one)


	22. Distance

Kal stirred with the lingering feeling from a distant dream. The forest was as shaded and diseased as it ever had been, but not so her own mind. Her mind felt bright and clear, and Kal found she had achieved the goal of a restful sleep. Assessing her surroundings, she rose unsteadily and set to find her companions.

Her companions, indeed. Throughout the whole ordeal of the recent happenings there appeared to be no constant to her days nor her life in its entirety, any longer. Then thoughts of Celeg offering her his fare of dried food meandered through her mind and her shoulders fell, her heart recalling its dread with newfound strength.

As Kal walked towards the Anduin she soon beheld the lithe cloaked frame of the elf. Curiously she sought to see what he was doing there, descended to the ground with his back to her. The half-orc caught sight of Eron, now rummaging in close whereabouts with no little amount of spring in his slender legs.

_Well, nearly no constant, _she smiled with the new thought.

And then as she watched, her dream resurfaced. She had been lost in the throes of a night terror set during her years of toil and servitude in the Tower. Where _he_ would come to both teach and torture her. Even now Kal shuddered, burying the images of things the robed one would do which left her wishing for death, the memory of cold harsh hands forever engraved in her skin. She never saw his face, but among all the servants of the Dark One, the alchemist had been her worst bane shadowing her days throughout all those hard, miserable years. Now, when freedom had taught her the difference Kal found a new resentment towards what the Lord of Mordor embodied, and all that was done in his name.

But then it all shifted and changed. And for the second time since she had known him, Kal had seen the elf in her dreams. Yet despite his manner in waking life, the vision looked upon her with kind eyes, as warm as the palm rested on her forehead. And then life of vivid colors and brilliant lights first encountered not long ago flooded her sleeping mind, and left Kal wishing for more.

But why should he, of all that the half-orc had lived and seen, find place again in her nightly imaginations? Still Kal was left bemused by how steadying this presence had felt. Akin to pure gold never to rust nor tarnish, a spirit alight in its silvery appearance. Further the touch had felt so real and seeing as it was a dream, Kal had allowed herself the pull of curiosity to feel in turn. She had never touched anyone the way she had done in this nightly plane of visions, and yet it had been her first guiding thought. She felt lighter in remembrance. _Warm, and..._

Kal severed her thought, now stood on the river bank and having reached the spot where the object of her musings was. Before anything, she now called him a friend. That was new and, along with the swift and sudden pain of meeting and losing the humans, had kindled the strange and ruthless flames of change. Once, the purpose of not showing weakness in the face of fear and cruelty ruled her life. _And now?_

Her eyes sought his. "I thought you would wake me," the half-orc said without preamble, seeing the elf rise. He had her dagger in his right hand, a long sturdy branch in the other.

"So you have rested?" the elf merely asked, his attention on the blade now swiftly carving into wood.

"I have," said Kal after brief hesitation.

_Warm, and... _She shook her head, leaning towards Eron, who duly welcomed the granted favor. Kal observed how he had already begun to change. Dire wolves proved impressive specimens when reaching maturity, and their growth was steady and fast. _But for now, yet a youngling, _she mused as the wolf pounced away again.

"Are you in need of aid?" asked Kal turning to the river and stretching her arms wide to shed the remnants of sleep from her limbs.

"Not for now," came the reply.

Looking to his work, she assumed the elf would use the makeshift spear for fishing deeper into the river. As he appeared to be very much focused on his task she turned to seek for Eron. Kal saw the wolf submerging into the river, and wondered at his boldness. _Well well. _Silently she soon left the elf to his own and strode along the bank with a new aim in mind.

Some ways far from where the elf stood Kal looked about herself, straining to catch any potential signs of a foul presence. Finding none, she placed down her sword and began to remove her garb and boots. Soon she steadily dove into the river, toward the spot where Eron paddled through. The water was cold, but bearable if one spent only a certain amount of time in its depths. And it calmed her senses many a time. The half-orc always found it held a deep purifying quality, and the feel of it against her skin now came as another sign of freedom. Swimming farther and farther from the shallows she searched for Eron. She saw him some ways ahead, and thought nothing of his agitation at first. But when his head submerged suddenly and swiftly beneath the surface a second time, Kal sensed there was something amiss. She quickened her strokes, seeing that the wolf now struggled to gain purchase above surface.

Kal was beginning to struggle somewhat herself with an unknown force pulling her sideways and though she righted her course, it led her ever away from the shore. After much effort she reached the wolf, now visibly tiring, and grasped it by its hide.

She led and thrust the animal forward towards the bank even as she was again swiftly drawn aside by a powerful current. Still Kal persevered using all her strength to keep a straight path to the shore. Despite her strongest attempts, the relentless force of the depths was soon sending the half-orc farther and farther towards the deepening breadth of the Great River.

Unable to scream and striving to stay adrift, she had not seen the elf swiftly shedding his cloak and upper layers before plunging into the waters himself.

_This cannot be the end_, Kal thought stubbornly. But then she was drawn beneath the waters struggling and thrashing, and when after failed attempts it all seemed in vain Kal broke the surface again. Confused, she found the vice she felt around her waist was an arm, and the tug on her was the movement of another. She met his eyes for only a breath and unwittingly flung an arm around his neck, as the elf guided them best he could towards safety. Kal soon found her lower body free of the pulling and swaying currents and so released him though she was now drained, setting towards the bank. The half-orc stumbled once she felt the murky river bed under her feet and stepping onto solid ground woefully dropped down, her breathing fast, gasping for air. She lifted her head to see the elf.

"Never... do that, again..." Legolas panted as he knelt before her, sounding both angry and fearful to her ears.

"It was... Eron-," Kal managed, pulling her wet hair back from her face.

"The wolf is safe," said Legolas, rising and retrieving his shirt and tunic with hasty movements. Then his eyes were hard on her. "You place us both in needless peril," the clipped words washed over her as the elf pulled his boots on over his damp trousers, his gaze swiftly trailing over her shivering naked form. With a glower he then reached and threw her his cloak, before turning and pacing towards the woods.

"I did not know of the currents-" Kal protested, looking after him even as she wrapped herself in the thick cloth. Her lips were a pale bruise from the cold.

"Precisely, you did not," he rebutted, and the animosity she felt rising between them brought forth an unusual tension, leaving the half-orc seething with dismay and further darkening her state. It may have been an unthinking endeavor on her part, surely. He had the right of it, the blasted one. And his manner was that of their harsh and resentful early encounters, and it now caused a new form of unease to gnaw at her. And atop it all, she had to will herself to renounce the fresh memory of his riling grip despite her struggle at the time, and how it felt.

_What is this?_ She could not help but wonder, feeling warm and hollow within despite the shivering cold, her frowning gaze on his retreating figure.

* * *

The evening was spent in quietude, accompanied by a low fire and a meal consisting of fish. The lightless woods were colder shrouded by the descending night, and the vicinity of the river aided little in that respect. Kal sat sheltered and clothed at the base of a tree, shivering in the elven cloak. She pulled the material tighter around her frame as she watched the dancing shadows created by the flaming light.

"Your adventure left its mark on you," the elf said to her from where he sat some ways across.

"It... is... nothing," Kal braved, her teeth chattering from time to time. And then all about her dimmed, and the half-orc was lying on the cold floor in a curled position, the shivering so intense it made sleep nigh impossible. This she had surely never felt before.

"Eron," the elf called softly to the wolf beside them, "natho den."

Used to this queer connection by now Kal could not hide her smile, seeing Eron slowly near and come nuzzling to her face. He then descended against her, offering much needed warmth. "You have become quite troublesome and difficult to watch over," Kal admonished the wolf in jest, knowing she could not have left him.

The half-orc then looked gratefully to her other companion, only to see him also rise and approach her. She blinked when he placed a palm to her face. _Warm and... __soothing._

"No fever," said the elf. "Your body should mend itself by the morrow." And then he remained by her side, forearms resting on his bent knees. "I should not have been so curt today," her surprised ears heard.

Kal looked away, confused at the novel display of remorse. "It was fortunate you were there," she settled when met with his eyes again, following how the reddish light flickered and shone in them.

"Have you thought about your decision?"

Kal sought the wolf, her hand reaching to feel the rich thick fur of its hide.

"I have," she looked his way. "I would join you."

The elf nodded in understanding of her answer, but Kal saw no outward emotion on his features.

"Are the others dwelling there, all friends to you?"

"Many of them are," Legolas said. Then he showed a smile of his own, though it did not reach his eyes. "But so are you, are you not?"

The meaning in his words was shadowed by her following thought. "Yet, considering how you and I fared before..." Kal hesitated, barring feelings of the memory, "I am no fool. I doubt I would be welcomed there," said the half-orc finally. It had been weighing on her mind ever since the elf mentioned his offer.

Legolas sighed, his vision cast downward. "This may be so."

Her resolution faltered and her face fell at the words. "Is it not wiser of me then, to simply go my own way?" Kal wondered, her attention returned to the wolf who was now halfheartedly licking at her fingers.

"Is that truly your wish?"

It took a few passing moments before Kal could muster a reply. "It is not," she admitted, only then gleaning the truth of it herself. Then and there came the notion that purpose, were it hers or anyone else's, may have its hidden ties to fate. And as this was one road out of many revealing itself to her now, she would follow it. The certainty never withered even when met with the stern light of his eyes.

"I will be there," said the elf into her stare.

Yet more bewildering words, and not only owed to the vehemence and surety by which they were spoken. Being there, bridging the past to a changing future. That would be enough, and more than she could ever hope for.

_Hope._ There came a sudden, worrying need to reach for him. Both unsettled by this fact and strangely alight Kal fought another unruly curl of her lips, feeling foolish. Her answer lay in her silence and a nod before all thought turned within, accompanied by the clean woody scent as she buried herself deeper into his cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Natho den' = 'help her/him/it' (Sindarin)
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting. It helps to see readers' thoughts when building stories, and they do add fuel to the fire. They also help to drive improvement.
> 
> I know, this is tagged as 'eventual romance', so where is it? Worry not friends, I know exactly what I am looking to achieve, and how I want to take you there.


	23. To the sea, to the sea

The following day she indeed felt redressed, the weakening spell caused by the freezing water having subsided. And so Kal walked with renewed strength, the travelers placing many leagues behind them for days on end as they went south along the Great River. They went undisturbed but cautious through the grey and now faded greenwood, the river ever within their sight.

"Keep your wits sharp, patrols line this area more so than before," the elf said one afternoon.

"How so?" asked Kal.

"We have traveled close to a great port city. One laden with corsairs. Like all else, it has fallen to the Shadow, and it rules there."

And indeed as they drew closer and traveled farther south, Kal could see glimpses through bending trees, of both small and large vessels. She discerned a fleet of great ships laid in dock and ready to sail on the right bank of the river. It had been a wonder to her, having not seen such large sea bearing contraptions before. None ventured too far into the dark waters of Lake Núrnen in Mordor. The elf had told her of the men of Umbar, and orcs and other beasts of the Enemy now walking the streets and flooding the courts of Pelargir, and how the once bright city had darkened with each time he laid eyes upon it from a distance.

"How much longer do we have?" Kal asked looking to the elf as they strode swiftly one bleak afternoon through the wood. The air had gotten colder, and strange winds filtered through the trees and seeped through her garments. She felt a new and foreign smell infuse her senses. This was also strange but good, in complete opposition to the faint scent of putrefaction lining the immediate vicinity of the Black Land.

"Judging by our position, we should be nearly arrived," said Legolas. Then, possibly owed to a new thought, he added, "Feeling unease?"

"More than you know," Kal answered truthfully, somewhat pleased when the elf shook his head and smiled. She found it was better when he did.

"You have defeated Uruk-hai in battle."

"And still I knew what to expect. Not so here," Kal rubbed the back of her neck. "But I mean to attempt this."

The elf said nothing more on the topic, but attuned his hearing and raised a hand, calling to Eron in his lilt of a language.

"What is it?" Kal asked, seeing the wolf cease his advance and return to them.

The elf was looking upward, through the trees. His eyes were narrowed and searching, though what for, Kal could not begin to wonder.

"Nothing, I thought I heard-," he looked back to her wondering eyes, "It is nothing."

The half-orc raised an eyebrow but did not inquire further. "How is it that you speak and the wolf listens?" she asked instead, his uncanny ability a mystery.

The elf appeared truly confused at her question, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. "It is our way," he said looking back to her. "Have you never tried?"

It was her turn to frown. "I do not possess your abilities. And either way, there was little practice to be had on the wargs of Mordor," she said with half a smile pulling at her lips, revealing one pointed fang.

"But have you ever _tried_?" the elf insisted, causing her to cease her stride and look at him.

"I have not," Kal said into his blue-grey stare.

"Call to him," the elf urged, tilting his head in the direction of the wolf.

Kal tried, calling Eron by his name, though her entreaties were left unheeded as the beast now ran farther and farther ahead of them.

The half-orc nearly jerked when she felt his hand on her arm. "_Call_ to him, as if it were you, returning to yourself. Call not with your mind."

His words were foreign, and spoken strangely. "I do not understand," Kal said softly, unsure why she could now scarcely look away.

"We are one and the same with the life of Arda," the elf continued, "such as it is. Think of him as a part of you. Your will," he pointed towards the wolf, "is his will."

"You make it sound so effortless, but I am sure it is anything but," Kal replied with no little pique. She was no elf, how could she manage what he described?

Legolas released his light grip. "You could have drowned for this beast. It is there, you merely lack the practice for it."

Her gaze swept back to Eron some ways ahead, and with little conviction, Kal tried doing as the elf said. She called to the wolf in her mind, no, her center, thinking of how it felt against her, how she had found and cared for it. She wanted it there, with her.

Nothing happened, no thought returned and she felt no different. Kal sighed. "Perhaps, I shall try another time," she said ruefully.

"Are you certain?" Legolas asked with a smile, and Kal looked to see Eron swiftly advancing towards her, his shrewd eyes boring into hers.

Bewildered she knelt and allowed the wolf to greet her as it usually did, its growling increased with the excitement of being close to its companion. The beast then pounced and ran ahead in a spirited spree, and Kal followed through the wood, laughing brightly for the first time she ever remembered. Gone as she was the half-orc did not catch the astonished mien of the elf at the novel sounds reaching from her.

"Kal, wait!" Legolas called after a while, but his voice was lost on her as she ran, and ran, the fresh and queer scented breeze filling her with new strength. As Kal followed the wolf she saw the darkness of the forest lift, making way to lighter surroundings. She soon stopped short beside the wolf at the sight which greeted her.

A great gulf was before her eyes, and as she gazed upon it Kal saw the endless expanse of water which could only be a great sea. And within those waters stood a mountainous strip of land. An island. Before and beyond it, there was nothing but dark water. She saw the great river flow into this boundless sea, and it was akin to nothing Kal had ever witnessed. Endless, grey and black depths, as far as the eye could see under ashen murky skies. _Never have I seen such fairness! _She was entranced, could not look away and stood there trapped by this first vision of a new world. Forgetting all else Kal spread her arms wide and closed her eyes, allowing the winds to lash at her face and garments, carrying and engulfing her in the now familiar scent. _This must be the scent of the sea. _Any darkness within dispersed akin to the winding gales, and who she was, what she was, the Tower, the Uruk-hai, death, all of it... for those few passing, weightless moments, Mordor was forgotten.

But then the spell was broken with the foreign voice risen behind her, and the tip of an arrow digging into the back of her neck.

"Slowly turn and face me, intruder," the male voice spoke in heavy accented common.

She heard Eron growling but the wolf only stood curled and ready to pounce and did not attack the new presence. Kal turned as bidden, and her eyes fell on light blue ones.

Fair of hair and face and clad in grey, the new presence looked upon her with poorly veiled disgust. Her eyes strayed to his ears and widened in astonishment. _An elf?_

The arrow he had nocked was now pointed at her chest. Looking to her right Kal felt more movement and saw another similarly clad presence having appeared from seemingly nowhere. Daring to look that way her vision strayed over long dark locks, and the brightest emerald eyes she had ever seen along with the startling realization that she knew those features. Those features-

"Tadion, Orophin!" a familiar voice cried then, drawing the attention of her captors.

Kal saw them tense, turning to see Legolas swiftly approach the strained group. She took this chance and swiftly crouched down, kicking one's legs from under him even as the fair-haired one brandished a long knife and lunged at her.

"Daro!" Legolas called haltingly, and Kal saw the two elves exchange equally confused and bewildered glances.

Her eyes were still locked with those of the fair-haired one, now holding the long knife to her throat.

"Orophin, leithio den," she heard Legolas say, and slowly, as a wary predator the elf addressed relinquished the stance on his blade.

"Stay still," he then told the half-orc as warning in the common speech.

Kal heard them utter his name in a greeting of sorts, and as she stood there under their watchful faces full of resent, Kal waited as Legolas convened swiftly and determinedly with the two other elves.

The stern elves listened in disbelief, then in displeasure, their mouths agape as their eyes flickered to her from time to time. The fair-haired one was vehement and shook his head, while the dark-haired one stood silent, but ever watching her with hatred to rival that of the Uruk-hai towards humans.

Much time passed before the half-orc saw Legolas sigh and turn to face her. "They will not harm you." Indeed the elves had both lowered their weapons, though the dark-haired one still held his arrow nocked and ready.

"They could tell me so themselves," Kal seethed, not a little unnerved at the thought of being at the mercy of three elves. No, there were three of them, and yet one of these elves would never bring her to harm. Somehow she knew it to be so. And still, her heart beat to break her ribs, and her limbs stayed taut and ready for battle, her hand on the hilt of Faramir's sword.

"Kal," Legolas spoke, seeing her wound state. "You will have to be blindfolded."

"Wh- I refuse, I am no slave nor am I a prisoner!" Kal cried in disbelief. "I thought we were going to a safe place-"

"That _is_ where we are heading." Under the vicious, scathing gaze of the dark-haired elf, Legolas neared her. "You asked for my trust once. Will you not offer the same?" he nearly whispered to her as they stood facing each other.

Kal found those otherworldly eyes shadowed by a new shade, and despite it all felt herself mellowing; her mind released of its dread, her chest rose and fell free of tension.

The dark-haired elf then muttered in their language, sounding ill-pleased at the least.

"We cannot linger," said Legolas. "It is perilous here. Come," he urged and hesitating at first Kal followed, with no little amount of trepidation as she was flanked by the grim and sullen elves.

Legolas handed the half-orc a cloth which she pulled over her eyes. "I will guide you if you need it," he said afterward, receiving a nod in response.

And so they went, though for the first time Kal truly began to wonder, whether this had been the right path for her to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it wasn't Lothlórien! Here we are, at the Mouths of Anduin. I have surprises.
> 
> "Daro" = "Halt/Stop" (Sindarin)
> 
> "Leithio den" = "Release her" (Sindarin)


	24. Halls of Stone

Deprived of sight she could still make use of her remaining senses, and more so sharpened her hearing. They had been descending and following downward from the high ground of the forests, that she could tell. The breeze blew stronger than before, lashing freely at her face and hair, though the sensation was dampened by the tension emanating from the elves around her. Whatever Legolas had said to them, it had swayed their murderous charge. But now here she was, treated like an enemy; which she was by all accounts, in their eyes at least.

"I suppose I should have heeded when you called," Kal said flatly to Legolas, sensing his presence as he walked close to her right. Eron was fast behind the group.

She heard a sigh. "I am not sure it would have made a difference either way. But all will be well. The sentries are merely cautious, and have every cause to be."

"Sentries?" the half-orc asked, avoiding a rock in her way with the aid of her heightened senses.

"There are those who watch the edge of the forest and Mouths of Anduin for fell activity. The place we are heading to is well hidden but one can never underestimate the scouring Lidless Eye."

Kal was quiet, considering how, by the look in their eyes, those elves would not have hesitated to fell her had the half-orc been wandering alone in the area.

"Are we going to a place of elves?" wondered Kal, the prospect of such somewhat worrying.

There was a pause before he answered. "Others dwell there also. You will see my meaning."

_If I ever regain my sight_ she thought wryly. Then Kal heard hissed sounds in their strange language and recognized the voice of the dark-haired elf. She then heard Legolas reply in a brisk and unusually harsh tone, and there was silence again.

But soon her thought turned to dwell on the fact that they had ceased walking. The fresh and enlivening breeze was now at its most intense, and Kal inhaled deeply, her entire being imbued with the clean and wholesome air.

"We will travel by water now. I will lead you into the craft," said Legolas.

_So it is as I thought._ They would reach their destination by water. Unsure how her body would react but doubly eager to know, Kal placed her feet where the elf instructed and was sat down onto a hard surface.

"You cannot ride standing," Legolas said, pressing on her shoulder.

She felt Eron lying at her feet and sensed his unease as it were her own.

Soon they were swaying languidly, and Kal heard the swishing sounds of water around them. The motions of the craft left her slightly light-headed and without thought, she leaned against what was closest to her. A shoulder, belonging to someone who swiftly drew away hissing foreign words. The dark-haired elf.

_Mistake, _Kal thought tiredly, rocking in line with the movement of the boat, feeling weaker and weaker as time passed.

"It is not much longer," she heard Legolas say.

And indeed soon she felt the air grow significantly colder, as if they were not in the openness of the outside world any longer. And before she knew it the craft came to a stand with a dull sound, having hit a hard surface.

"May I regain my sight?" asked Kal, her trepidation lengthening. But there was also interest and the will to see, to know where these creatures had taken her.

She was aided from the craft by Legolas, and as soon as her feet hit solid ground the blindfold was removed from her eyes.

First her sight fell on the elf she knew, and then her head swiveled around and her mouth dropped agog.

It was an underground dock of sorts. They stood on a stone platform surrounded by water, and she saw many more vessels tied there akin to the one they had come by. There were high cavernous walls, brilliantly lit sconces diffusing much-needed light, reflected in the dark waters.

But looking before her, Kal saw a wide, seemingly endless lit corridor, hewn into the rock. Its straight walls made her wonder, as they were carved with minute skill. Turning her head, she saw other, similar corridors along the wide rounded enclave, leading she knew not where, with straight paths hewn into stone on the edge of the water to enter them.

Her impression was momentarily interrupted by the dark-haired elf, who shot between them without a word, forcefully knocking Kal off her balance in the process before his feet took him swiftly through the corridor.

"Kal," she heard the now familiar voice. The only familiar voice, in this place. She turned to face him.

"Welcome," said Legolas, "to Tolfalas."

"Tol-falas?" she repeated the new word thoughtfully, her eyes still wide with wonder, and eager to see more.

Legolas swiftly turned and spoke to the one he had referred to as Orophin. Kal saw the other elf take to the craft and begin heading back on the water, presumably towards the outside world. The elf then turned to her.

"Yes, do you recall the island you saw when looking upon the sea?"

It all fell into place. "So you found a haven here? We are beneath the island?" she asked, not a little astonished.

"Close. This was a natural, little explored opening into the bowels of the island. You saw it boasts mountainous terrain as well."

She nodded.

"This island, hidden by more than our caution, is our dwelling place, Kal."

"Close enough to the Black Land to not pose first suspicion," Kal thought aloud, eyes locked with his.

Legolas offered a cautious smile, and she swallowed at the lightness and sincerity of it.

"I have brought you here to see, and meet ones which may aid in your purpose."

Her purpose. Of course, if only she knew what that would be.

"Legolas!" their conversation was interrupted by a new, soft and silvery voice, the likes of which Kal had never heard before. Looking to the source she saw a lithe and frail seeming creature, of a beauty which left Kal all manner of dismayed and entranced at the same time. Her skin was fair, her long hair flowing, spun midnight, and her grey eyes shimmered as though lit from within.

Kal gaped as the figure fast approached, her walking become running, her faded blue robes flowing about her as she flung herself into the arms of her companion, and thus stood for a few good moments. Kal was begun to feel as if she should not be there.

When they broke apart the new presence whispered softly to Legolas, who replied in kind, taking her hands in his. Kal then saw him reach for his collar and retrieve the _elessar _pendant from around his neck, placing it into her hands. She embraced him again, and Kal saw relief clearly written on her face, though there were also tears. She recognized the familiar signs of grief over loss.

She took the chance to observe and saw other beings meandering through the generous space, some passing far at the end of the corridor into other places. Kal could not discern the nature of these beings.

"Kal," Legolas brought her back, and she turned to see him near her. He held the fair one by the hand. "This is the lady Arwen. She is elven kind, as I am, and one of my dearest friends."

Kal and the elf maid regarded each other, and the half-orc saw a shadow of apprehension in those enchanting eyes. But shortly after it disappeared. She briefly thought of how polar opposites they may appear to onlookers - she, in her brown faded leathers, amber eyes and unruly black hair, and the elf, in her finely woven robes with her luxurious locks and grey-silver stare. Yet despite it all, she seemed... _Weakened, _was the first thought Kal had.

"Kal is a companion of mine, and I encountered her on my way back," he spoke to Arwen, and Kal was somewhat grateful for the lack of detail. "We have aided each other. I believe we have a space for her definite stay, do we not?" he asked looking to the raven-haired elf maid.

Arwen looked to Legolas, and it was as if a quiet thought passed between them. The maid then met the gaze of the half-orc.

"Any trusted friend of Legolas I would welcome into our sanctuary," came the words in the common tongue, as light as fading dew on a chill morning.

"Gratitude," settled the half-orc tilting her head slightly, unsure what else to say.

"You must be famished, come," the maid then urged.

Looking to Legolas she saw him nod in agreement, and so the trio proceeded towards the long lamplit corridor.

"There is much you need to see of this place," Arwen spoke anew regarding Kal, whose gaze now trailed over every detail, every straight wall and wooden door, the smooth and even floor beneath their feet. "Legolas and I may be of aid in such, but I am certain you shall meet others."

"Where is our Lockbearer?" Legolas asked the elf maid then, a term lost on Kal.

"Gone for supplies," she replied with a vague smile. "His spirits will lift upon seeing you. They always do."

Legolas said nothing, but the sad smile she saw on his face spoke of it. This was someone he cared for, and very much so.

She then heard the two elves speaking in their language. After some time Legolas turned to Kal. "There is someone I must see. You will be safe with Arwen," he sought her eyes, and Kal had little choice but to nod and agree.

"Will you be long?" the half-orc asked, a little apprehensive at losing the only familiar presence in this strange new place.

Legolas turned to her again, having already proceeded into a known direction. "I doubt it." And he left.

Kal watched him disappear into what appeared to be a side corridor before meeting the eyes of the female elf. "Well, lady Arwen," she sighed, "lead the way."

* * *

Legolas walked swiftly following the stone path and reached a flight of stairs hewn into the rock. It led to a higher level, where a new corridor awaited. This one was lined with wooden doors on either side. He stopped before one of them, and with a creak opened it to reveal a wide chamber. There was a long carved table within and many wooden shelves filled to the brim with scrolls and maps. Faded tapestries of once lively colors lined the walls. He felt the other elf before he saw him, knowing this was where he would be found. His head of rich dark hair shone reddish under the torchlight as he poured over an old scroll with a critical eye.

"Tadion."

The other elf made no retort nor move at the sound of his name, nor even took his eyes off the scroll. Silence enveloped them. Legolas waited.

"What have you done?" the one called Tadion asked without preamble, as if he were speaking to himself.

"I, too, am glad to find you unharmed, brother," Legolas sighed.

The dark-haired elf waved the other's words away, his face lined with impatience.

"Have there been troubles in my absence?" asked Legolas as he neared the green-eyed elf.

"No troubles," came the frosty retort. Legolas saw the other lift his head then to meet his eyes. "Unless you count the ones you bring," the elf finished gravely as he straightened. Again there was silence, though a known tension could be felt rising in the space between them.

"So we are welcoming orcs into our midst now?" Tadion finally asked, his voice dripping poison and discontent.

Legolas looked away. Of course, he had anticipated this. "Even you must have sensed she is no orc-"

"Indeed not, but worse. Can you imagine how this creature came to be? Thought about what wretched unfortunate of your kind was tortured and forced to bear or spawn her?"

"I fail to see how that is the fault of the one born. I thought you the wiser in this-"

"Look me in the eye and tell me," Tadion cut through his words, "that she was not on the side of the Enemy when you came upon her."

The other's silence only spurred him further.

"I thought so," the dark-haired elf continued with narrowed eyes. "What will follow? Will you also be leading Uruk-hai here? Perhaps Sauron himself?"

"Your bitterness and resent are unwarranted and unjust," said Legolas, now striving to maintain his calm. "We fought together. She has proven herself to me and if that does not suffice in your eyes, then there is nothing more to say."

Tadion swiftly paced before his brother. "I have always looked to you and your wisdom. But lately, I cannot recognize my own kin. You will ruin yourself, and us, with your cursed search and these reckless journeys to the Black Land. He has perished, Legolas," Tadion said through gritted teeth.

"Hold your tongue," the other elf warned lowly, a sharp edge to his voice.

But his brother was undeterred. "Yet despite your numerous failed attempts, in your stubbornness, you will not accept the truth. That he fell before the Black Gate and even if he had not, time treats mortals differently. Even if he were alive, what would be the use? What would be left of him after enduring Sauron? And to make matters worse, you bring the enemy to our doorstep-"

"The creature you encountered in the forest is not your enemy," the other said tiredly.

Tadion frowned and closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his temple. "I do wonder in times such as these, about what robbed you of your wits since we last stood together. I never thought you to be easily swayed by a deceptively fair face. Or was it her feigned innocence which fooled you?"

"Tadion you forget yourself," Legolas said swiftly, standing straighter with the strain of his now rising temper.

The other elf grinned. His smiles were all mirthless anyway, lately. _"Now_ you choose to be your father's son. What would he say to this, I wonder? What would Thranduil king think of his heir cavorting with the enemy having destroyed our kingdom, enslaved our people, burned our forests-"

"You fail to recall I was there, brother," Legolas said coldly.

"No, but it seems to me you do," Tadion retorted. "You fail to recall that blade nearly hitting its mark, his eyes from afar, mother's wailing I could only see but never heard, and how neither of us reached her-"

"That is enough," the older elf cut in. "Your position is not to give lectures. And this is not your decision to make." By now it took indeed much effort to maintain a collected composure. Throughout their years together, his brother had always known how to bring a rise out of him. And apparently still could rather successfully. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "If you but for one moment looked beyond your fear and hatred you would see, just as I have, that she poses no ill intent. She is no threat to you or I or anyone else."

"Are you calling me a craven?" Tadion bristled, his eyes dark and hard. Eyes which were their mother's as indeed was most of his appearance, but now a ruthless light shone through them, reminiscent of the scathing gaze of Thranduil king in his worst spells of ire.

"I am calling you blind," Legolas said slowly, his patience worn dangerously thin. It was draining how much like their father Tadion could be in his sharp temper.

But the other leaned against the wall crossing his arms, a smile spreading over his youthful face. His manner darkened with scorn, and his lip quivered in mild disgust. "How he defends his orcish pet. How you spoke to her as if it were a maid in need of aid and not a half-breed from the burrows of the Tower!"

"Your fears have no foundation other than your prejudice," Legolas spoke, drawing a blank at the slander. "It saddens me to witness it."

Tadion threw his head back in a short laugh. "The prince of the Woodland Realm, descendant of Oropher King, besotted with a spawn of Mordor." He shook his head. "I lived to see the day."

Even his brother knew the words were callous and completely untrue, and he would normally be unaffected by the nature of such ridiculous accusations. This time, however, Legolas felt the grip of a steady, unwelcome ire. He took a deep breath. "If you have nothing worth saying, there is no use in me listening. We will speak when, and if you have regained yourself."

Emerald eyes cut into his. "There may come a time, brother, when you will recall my warnings."

"Leave," Legolas hissed, and as potent as his disdain was, Tadion offered no more stinging words.

"Your Highness," his brother swept into a pretend bow before throwing the door open and briskly walking away, his hands balled into fists.

The elf remaining heaved a deep sigh. His younger brother had lost much to the Shadow, but this steadily growing ruthlessness in the past years was most worrying. He did not know how to help. He did not know what would.

_Mother, father_ _, would that_ _ we at least knew for certain you await us, in the Undying Lands._

His thought again set to the pathless sea as the elf stood rooted to the spot, still and staring into nothingness for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for commenting and/or the time spent reading this! What, Legolas has a brother? Yes, I did that *reveals AU wildcard*


	25. All those who wander

The echo of their steps resounded through the lit corridor. The half-orc followed the elf maid, her eyes trailing over the strange inscriptions on some of the doors she saw, carved using etchings and symbols unknown to her eyes. Some were of straight and sturdy lines while others swirled in winding regular shapes.

"Your companion seems very much at ease in this new place," Kal heard the elf maid speak then, and turning noticed the elf set her lost gaze on Eron.

The wolf was indeed following them, a curiosity brimming in its eyes which Kal thought mirrored her own. It felt as if her state of mind flowed through him, and it was then she recalled the strange words Legolas had said to her. _A part of you._

"Where are we heading?" Kal dared ask the ethereal being to her right, observing her gliding stride as the elf led them silently on.

"First you ought to eat, and then I will show you a place you can dwell in." Her voice was soft but restrained, and cold. _Even female elves are still elves. _Kal wondered how much this one shared the sentiment of the sentries she had almost fought, had it not been for Legolas.

Then the half-orc wished he had not gone so soon and left her with this new stranger, but such it was.

None said a word as they continued on until Kal saw the corridor end into a wide arch, and passing through it her eyes fell on the sight of a large chamber. It was again lit by copper sconces and different types of light-diffusing lanterns, large and small, and lined with long wooden tables.

"This is the main hall, used as a dining place, mostly," Arwen spoke from beside her.

Looking upward Kal noticed the wide dark grey cavernous ceiling, the place having been hewn from a natural underground cave. But, unlike the ominous darkness of the Tower, this place was filled with warm light and a novel feeling of comfort, not dissimilar to what she had felt during one peaceful fire-lit night in the presence of an elf. _Trust?_

"I have never seen such a place," Kal wondered, meeting the eyes of the elf. There may have been a smile there, but Kal was not sure.

Wordlessly Arwen went towards one of the tables closer to the entrance and bid the half-orc and wolf stay there. "I will return shortly."

Nodding her understanding Kal returned her attention to studying this strange place, her curious eyes trailing over every new detail. There were others. Some were tall and lithe, while others were sturdy and short. Kal had seen enough of the slaves in the fields of Mordor to know of dwarves, but never thought she would find such beings here. They were dressed in leathers and furs, while others wore patched working garments. Their hair and beards were thick and strewn with numerous beads and woven in similar ways. She also saw a few more elves, as well as those of the human race. Those she knew well, and they were the only race that left the half-orc bemused in their ways. For unlike the rest, they had taken both sides. There were men such as Faramir. And then there were men such as the ones she had seen whipping the slaves, cursing at them in their Easterling tongues. How could there be such duality in a race? And then her mind drifted to herself. _Have I not changed sides myself? _Was being here not proof of such? She could have gone into the world on her own, it was her freedom to do so. And yet, she had chosen to follow an elf. "_I will be there," _he had said.

She shook the memory away, her eyes focusing on the beings going about their usual chores. There were a few groups conversing quietly among themselves, while others sat and ate their quiet fare from what appeared to be clay bowls and various utensils. None seemed to take much notice of her during this time, and the half-orc was grateful for it.

She felt the presence of the elf maid returning after some time, her hands laden with two bowls. One she placed before the half-orc, while the other she knelt and offered to the wolf. Kal was astonished how, instead of growling, Eron lowered his head in bashful surrender when the one called Arwen gently stroked his ear._ Elves._ So it was as Legolas said; their connection with all manner of life in Arda did run as deep.

Kal looked into her bowl where she saw a broth of sorts. It was warm and the scent of it was unlike any she had smelled before. She looked up to Arwen, who was silently seated before her, her eyes cast downward. There was no bowl in front of her.

With the odd feeling that she should hurry Kal saw the wooden spoon inside and remembered how the slaves would carve such to use and eat with. She took the spoon in her left hand, somehow it came easier, and hesitatingly took a mouthful of the offering. Her eyes widened. The taste was both salty and rich, but there was also an appealing sweetness about it. She took another spoonful, then another. She wanted to ask the elf maid what it was, but her gaze remained downcast, and it seemed to Kal that even though she was there in body, the elf was far away in presence. Thus the half-orc said nothing and ate her fill, after which nodding to the elf they both rose, and the three proceeded on their way.

"How long has this place stood for?" Kal dared ask the quiet elf after some time.

The maid lifted her head, her eyes staring ahead into nothing. "After the Fall, it has been built for some years now."

That was helpful but not quite. The half-orc decided she would not inquire anything further of this elf, whose pain and frostiness seeped through her in nearly tangible waves.

Kal nearly did not see her stop before a door left ajar, having followed through one of the many corridors.

"This is a place you may sleep in during your stay." She opened the door and led them inside. "It is not much, but then neither is what the others have." And so she moved forward, and Kal saw her lighting a sconce in the wall.

She then discerned a wooden pallet, a small table and a rack, a chamber pot. The room itself was small, but its walls were straight and the space was clean. There were no windows.

"Gratitude," Kal turned to the elf, at which the other tilted her head in farewell and turned to leave. "Wait-" she called suddenly.

The elf maid stopped, looking at her in askance.

"Will... that is, how will I see Legolas?"

Arwen was silent for a moment before turning to leave anew. "He will find you."

And with that the elf was gone, leaving the half-orc staring after her, halfheartedly stroking the fur of her companion.

* * *

Having met with the others on his return Legolas paced down the stone stairs, his steps swift. The words with his brother had further darkened his mood, despite him expecting a reaction quite similar to what had passed. It still was but one out of many more to come.

Why _had_ he brought her here?

There came the nagging thought that he should have kept his silence. But then, leave one floundering like so, not even aware of their true nature, somehow sat ill with him as well. Though it may not be his place to tell her, the elf could not stay his words after seeing her so destitute over the loss of the humans. Her ruthlessness from the beginning seemed to clash with the being he had seen during their unwilling companionship. A duality, struggling forces to overwhelm, and one would subdue the other. He had decided, that it was all worth the risk if it meant but one more being turned from the way of the Shadow. He pondered over this with a slight frown, pacing through the cool bowels of the mountains, until his mind drifted to other situations. And then, unbidden and to his pique, the image of her struggling in the river came to the fore; of holding her to him, and the feel of her shivering form. The elf shook his head, alarmed and willing the thought away as he now came to face a wide opening in the mountain, high enough for one of taller stature to pass through.

Night had fallen and before him was a natural platform of stone high into the side of the cliff, overseeing the endless darkened seas. A wooden bench stood facing the Great Sea, and a figure was seated there. Her black hair flew with the breeze, her light robes billowed gently about her.

His steps took him towards her, and the elf saw the green stone the maid held in her lap. Her eyes were empty and still as a statue she was, not even lifting her head at his approach.

Legolas descended beside her, and both elves sat in silence for a while.

"Your companion is on the second level," the elf maid said, still looking to the stone in her hands.

Legolas nodded in understanding before searching her eyes.

"I found more intelligence this time, I am close, Arwen."

The elf maid shook her head, and he saw a slight and steady stream spill over her drawn face, though her words were emotionless when she spoke. "I still dream of him. He is seated upon a high chair surrounded by darkness and red fumes, and he suffers, endlessly. He calls my name, and then I lose him as if a black veil is drawn over my eyes, or his."

Legolas lowered his head at the all too familiar detail.

"But," the maid continued, taking a deep breath, "perhaps it is all a figment of my wearied being after all. Perhaps," she choked, "perhaps he is gone and this is as foolish as others make it to be. I cannot let you endanger yourself like this any longer. You should cease this, Legolas," she looked to her friend, catching the slight frown on his youthful face.

He placed a hand over her own clutching the elf stone. His voice came soft but firm. "Arwen, I promised."

She lowered her head further, and the elf saw new unruly sobs shaking her frame.

"My brothers are gone," the maid all but whispered, and Legolas felt his heart drop to his feet.

"Are you..."

"I am certain," she wiped her face with her sleeve. "It happened while you were away, some weeks ago. I was doing a chore, I remember not what it was. And I felt the rift within as if a part of me had been struck down and would never be recovered. I knew it was them. I knew..." she repeated, covering her eyes with her palms, taking a deep breath. She looked into his troubled eyes. "I cannot let the same happen to you. Please, Legolas."

His gaze turned to the black nothingness of the waters before them. It all spoke of reason. And yet. "He is not gone."

Arwen was quiet for a long time.

"Does the ache persist as before?" the elf maid asked in the end. She asked, though she knew they all felt it the same.

"With each wave crashing against the shores," said Legolas. He looked to the pitch-black sky devoid of the once bright celestial lamps, and sighed. "I oft times still wonder, why the Straight Path has closed to us. Why They have done nothing, and left us to our own. Stranded here." The same question, year after year, and there was never an answer. As things were, there was but one way of being free of this world now. A world leaving their kind weakened in turn, as they were tied to its fate, and endured its suffering to the end. The physical death of their bodies, and being called to Mandos. If there were still such a place for them. And even so, the Valar remained silent to whatever pleas the Firstborn sent them. "Do you suppose at least Mandos is still open to us?" Legolas asked, his head tilted to the sky.

Arwen lowered her eyes, the silvery beads of her feelings streaking her face. "For my brothers' sakes, I truly hope so, Legolas. I truly do." She then leaned into him with her head resting on his shoulder, seeking the rare comfort of one who knew the same turmoil and loss as she.

Legolas placed an arm around her, and they both tilted their heads up to the darkness. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps they would appear tonight. It had become a habit to dwell so, though the shivering memory of them was all that remained.

"I miss them so," the elf maid spoke softly after a time. Her family, gone to none knew where. She had made her own choice that day, on Cerin Amroth, when she pledged herself to _him,_ and stood by it to the end.

"As do I." Legolas thought of them, and of his own kin. He still hoped, that those gone had at least reached Mandos. And that, one day, he may see them again, and walk with them in peace under the Light of the Undying Lands. A fool's dream.


	26. How many things

There was no intonation, nor indeed any timbre to the voice. She felt the word gain meaning in her mind, resounding through the lightless place the half-orc found herself in.

_Down..._

She wanted to demand who it was, but as ever, these visions were not in her power to control. She was near always voiceless in the unstable planes of her nightmares. The earth shook beneath her feet, and all around her was crumbling away in a fiery chasm.

_...Down..._

Kal felt a steady, wet warmth lapping at her cheek. Eyes opening blearily, the half-orc saw she was being regaled with the insistent nose and tongue pertaining to her four legged companion. She pushed his maw gently away from her face and rose from the pallet.

What time it was, she had no notion. _I must have... fallen asleep._ The sconce in the wall still burned though with dimmer light. Kal frowned, the remnants of her night vision still fresh in her thought. This had been a novel one. Usually, her night terrors tended to repeat themselves in theme and visuals, each one causing various degrees of fright or unease. But never had she heard this voice, beckoning her... downward? She decided to attribute it all to the recent turn of events. It was then she noticed a change of garments similar to hers along with a few other pieces, placed beside the pallet.

Kal knelt and retrieved one of the items. She felt the material of the thick grey linen tunic between her fingers, impressed by the fresh scent to it. She noticed a clay ewer also stood close to the pallet and approaching was pleased to see it was filled with water. There was a bowl she had not seen before in another corner. After sparsely washing her face and hands Kal changed and was about to renounce the chamber calling to Eron, when a steady knock sounded against the wooden door.

Pulling at the metal handle to reveal who it was, Kal found herself staring into the blue-grey depths of the elf who led her here.

She saw his silvery hair was loose and falling freely over his shoulders, unlike the manner it was braided in when traveling the wilds. He no longer wore his green and brown traveling garb but stood before her in a belted grey long-sleeved shirt reaching to his knees, and fitted dark trousers tucked in what appeared to be soft grey boots. He was weaponless, which Kal found odd.

The elf raised a questioning eyebrow. "Ready to face the day?"

Kal opened the door wider, allowing Eron to greet him, its nose brushing his welcoming palm.

"Have I..." she blinked heavily.

"Slept the night away, yes. Come, there are things I wish to show you sooner than later," he started towards their left as Kal swiftly closed the door to join him.

They passed through a number of corridors, encountering other souls here and there. Irrespective of whether they were humans, dwarves, or elves, they all seemed to know the elf walking beside her. And they all cast uncertain glances her way.

_Of course they would. _Her hand involuntarily clenched around the hilt of Faramir's sword. She had taken the weapon with, as precautionary measures were never to be taken lightly, no matter the ill or good nature of the situation one was in. Another lesson learned in Mordor.

"Where are we heading?"

The elf glanced briefly at her. "You should know your way around the isle."

To say she was not intrigued would be a lie. And so they went together, following various hewn corridors and climbing numbers of stairs until they reached a platform leading to the outside world. The entrance was a natural opening in the mountain, inconspicuous to the foreign eye.

As they passed through, Kal found herself staring at the rich mountainous relief of the island. They were still well above the level of the sea, she surmised.

_The sea. _Kal saw it bordering the corners of her vision, heard the song of its dark green waters crashing against her mind, bringing peace but also desire. _Desire, for what?_

Eyes refocusing, they beheld an outcropping of various types of rock, rich in color and shape. They ranged from black to browns streaked with reds, to whitish-grey. Many cliffs formed a chain strewn across the island.

"Once, this place was alive," said Legolas as her eyes trailed over the view. "Fire spewed from its depths, and its eruptions were a tumultuous, dangerous wonder to behold."

"Ones as those in the Fiery Mountain," Kal mused, the image reminding her of the volcano which she knew housed the Chambers of Fire in the Black Land.

The elf seemed to stiffen at her words, but said nothing of it, instead pursuing his explanation. "This isle was populated sparsely once before the Dark One ruled, and its climate and lack of proper harborage diminished the numbers of local populace dwelling here."

"But you found it suitable for... yourselves? All those beings living out their lives here-"

"-came of their own free will," interrupted the elf. "We found this space as we sailed along the Great River, during a time when we were fleeing. We were desperate then."

"You and...?" Kal asked, truly curious.

"The elf maid you met earlier, another friend and a few others."

They had climbed down and reached what Kal saw to be a lower less rocky terrain on the island. Sparse trees grew here, and the plants seemed to fare better in health than those in Ithilien. Still, the ever present grey clouds loomed above them, darkening the sight.

"We were in need of shelter and respite, and so moored here, in one of the few places we could. Its shores are mostly of rock and cliff you see, and its surroundings bring little hope for sailing. And then we found this place, and began to hope again. And as the years passed, we allowed more to come, ones desperate and driven enough to live free of the yoke of Mordor."

They had ceased walking after a while. Her eyes went to the sea to her left, at the black cliffs surrounding steep shores. Kal turned her vision forward and found herself in a grey vale, staring at various steaming pools of water. "What... is this place?" she inquired of the elf, having never seen such a sight before.

He beckoned to her and went to the edge of one of the brimming frothing pools. Kal approached and saw the water was steaming and overflowing, of a certain depth if she were to guess. It bubbled in hues of blue and green, and there was a strange scent in the air around them.

"These are natural warm springs from the bowels of the earth and are safe to bathe in. Though there is a system and freshwater within the mountain dwelling, some come here as well. There is another space lined with such pools that the men use."

Kal raised an eyebrow. "Why separate males and females?"

"Some cultures, especially humans, hold to the custom," the elf returned.

This was new. Kal thought back at all the times she had carelessly shed her clothes to bathe when traveling. Of course, she would never have dared to bathe naked in the presence of orcs, but that was due to other reasons. Her unease went unnoticed as Legolas continued on his path, Eron in tow.

The pair traversed across the land in silent companionship, a state Kal found aided to dispel the strange recent nightly vision from her mind. In the afternoon they reached what Kal assumed was the eastern side of the isle. She noticed the enticing winds from across seas unknown were milder here. She also saw that different kinds of trees lined the area. They grew together in groves lined with a rich, bushy thicket and thorny shrubs. She saw plenty of birds making their nesting onto the different sized cliffs facing the sea, all grey and white, and a sliver of liveliness compared to the tame surroundings.

They walked through the sparse wood and ascended higher. Kal went ahead, astonished at the thick round crowns of the sturdy trees in their way.

She stopped before one and clambered up through its boughs, intent on seeing the wide view of the area from above. But there was no such luck as she could not get to a certain angle, and the half-orc felt not as sure in her balance atop slender branches as an elf would. And so Kal carefully descended to sit onto a lower branch, the backs of her knees grasping it tightly. She then let her upper body hang upside down from the large wooden guardian atop the lonely hill. This was good. There was no fear, no thralldom, no fumes, no whips. Only clean, breathable air, blowing in gusts across the wide world. A world beyond the forbidding peaks of the Mountains of Shadow, only now beginning to take shape in her mind. Kal stretched downward as her legs continued to grasp the branch.

She remained so, her arms hanging freely until the elf reached her in his slow stride. Eron jumped up and down, perceiving a game in attempting to catch the flowing tresses of her unbound hair between his teeth, though they were sorely out of reach.

"Climb down from the tree, Kal," she heard him say, and meeting his eyes saw the elf looking up at her, his arms crossed.

She stared at him from her inverted position, a way above his head. A corner of his mouth curled upward.

A swift, strong wisp of air caught through her hair then, and Kal saw his eyes flutter closed briefly as a few long, dark strands feathered over his face.

Even so, she beheld him from above as the winds lashed at his own figure, his hair, his clothes, revealing the bare outline of his collarbone through the neckline of his tunic. The half-orc reasoned that the swift and reckless beating against her ribcage had merely been a fleeting sensation, its source the mounting fatigue from their journey here. She turned swiftly atop the branch and let herself drop to the ground, straightening before him.

Kal palmed the dust from her hands and the leaves from her garments, fighting a sudden wince when his hand reached to her left, somewhere near her pointed ear. A leafy twig was retrieved from her hair.

"I thought you did not scamper through trees," said Legolas, a tint to his voice which accompanied the look in his eyes. They both recalled these words, which the half-orc had said to him once before they first fought on the same side.

Strange it was that he remembered such details. "How many things did you once think you would never do?" asked the half-orc, turning her head to gaze towards the open view.

The elf was watching her in silence, and Kal felt a sliver of unease when their eyes met again. "More than I dare to consider," he replied. That unnerving curl of his lip became more noticeable for a fleeting moment, but was soon overcast by a shadow falling over his expression. The elf tore his gaze away and cleared his throat, pointing silently to the sea before turning to descend the rocky hill for her to follow.

Legolas led them down towards a narrow slip of sanded shore, and Kal felt all the freer and lightheaded as she breathed in the salty freshness. The sea was mild that day, waves lazily crashing against the isle in the very rhythm devised by the laws of nature.

Looking to her right, Kal found it strange that the elf stared straight ahead, his gaze as lost as that time she had seen him beaten and bruised, tied against a tree in the close whereabouts of the Black Land.

"Legolas?" she dared ask, seeing him stand so silent and grim. It was then Kal recalled this was the same look she had seen on the elf maid earlier.

The elf appeared to reemerge from the shade of whatever turmoil he had sunken in, light eyes staring into reddish gold.

"The sea," he said, and as she looked at him, to Kal it seemed his eyes held the very same dark grey of its waters. "You may find this strange, but my kind feel an endless pull towards it."

"How so?" Kal wondered, listening to the boundless waters without. It was as though they whispered. A faint, illicit call, which the half-orc might have considered akin to music, had she known how to define such.

The elf stared ahead as he stepped forward, and removed his soft boots. Barefooted, he then walked towards the water, his feet sinking into the wet sand.

Without a second thought Kal swiftly did the same, and the moment her feet touched the sand she nearly purred in contentment. She walked closer to Legolas until the foaming waters languidly swished against her ankles.

"It is cold, but good," she voiced the thought. "What is this pull you speak of?"

"The Firstborn had a choice to reach the lands of the Valar when wearied of this world and dwell there, in their light. This was done by sailing a path open to those of our kind, back to Aman. These shores were not to be our home ever after. But now," he paused, as though recalling something, "here we still are."

Kal gathered the hardness of his words, and posed another question. "What about other races, was the same path you speak of not open to them?"

The elf shook his head. "Their fate is, or was, of a different ilk. It was all in the design of the One. But now..." his words trailed away.

Kal saw a deep shadow mar his face, the likes of which she had seen once before, by the graves of Faramir and Celeg.

"Now, we have no means to reach Elvenhome. We are trapped, as it were, until we end here, and beyond that none even know anymore."

"And so, you endure?..." asked Kal, her chest too tight at the sight of his lowered gaze.

"And so, we do," Legolas shrugged, gazing across the horizon, uncaring of the significantly colder breeze strongly snapping at his figure.

They both stared ahead in quietude. The same kind of silence that would at times settle between them during their travels through Ithilien. There was a certain cold peace to it which brought forth a restive, ruminative state. There was a thin strip of grey light left, cutting across a chrome sky.

"Who built your home carved into the mountain?" Kal asked when the light of day slowly began to fade from their line of sight.

Legolas met her gaze. "You may have heard dwarves are quite gifted builders and masons."

Her mouth dropped agog. The straight structures, pillars, arches, and walls she had seen. The strange symbols. All of it, their doing?

"If that is their work, then I see the truth of it indeed," she admitted, forcing memories of Mordor and whipped slaves from her mind. "But, how do you avoid detection?" she had to know.

At this, the elf was silent, hesitating. She frowned.

"We are cautious."

"But you mentioned more than caution before," Kal insisted, her curiosity getting the better of her.

He threw her a sharp stare, at which her eyebrows lifted further in confusion.

"As I told you, we are cautious. And this place had never been densely populated due to less than thriving living conditions and became utterly abandoned in time. Especially after the Empire lost interest, having far more important and strategically valued places to ensnare and occupy."

There had been a reticence in his answer which made her wonder, but Kal decided not to press further. And then she heard the sounds again. The soft wisps. "Do you hear it?" she asked suddenly, reaching for his shoulder without thought. "Arching waves of... sound," she caught sight of his eyes, which appeared all the brighter in the descending twilight of dusk. "As if it speaks, in an unknown language all its own, but it does... do you hear?" Kal continued, bewildered that she felt it all.

The elf slowly shirked away from her touch and walked forward, looking out to the endless nothing.

Kal stayed behind, unsure why she should be as affected as she felt by such a meaningless gesture.

"What I would find surprising, is that you do," came the strange and somewhat wooden words.

Her brow furrowed, and Kal wanted to ask his meaning when the elf sharply turned and bent to take his boots. "We ought to return. The others will be at the evening meal," he followed and started ahead without her, and the foreboding aura enveloping him now discouraged the half-orc from spilling her ardent question.

* * *

They traveled a different path to the one originally taken, and soon the pair reached the dwelling, housed under one of the many peaks lining the isle of Tolfalas.

At their destination, Kal recognized the dining space when her eyes beheld the tables. Many of them were now occupied and bristling with more activity and murmurs than the first time she had been in this place. And yet, there were not many gathered in numbers. The population of this community seemed sparse, colorful though it was.

"Wait here," the elf told her and Kal did so, mouthing soothing words for Eron to stay put.

She had been standing there for a few moments before the half-orc heard a voice snarling behind her.

"You!" a male voice called in the common tongue.

Turning on her heel Kal saw two men approach. They wore leathers and dark beards lined their stern faces. Their heads were shaven and their almond-shaped eyes shone black and sharp. Tattoos were upon their brow. "We came here to escape the Shadow, and now we find it dwelling among us," one of them spoke then with an unmistakable accent. Easterlings.

Kal straightened even as the wolf began to growl lowly, leaning on its front legs, its ears tilted backward.

The two men trailed their gazes over her figure, then her eyes and fangs as she opened her mouth to speak. "I want no manner of trouble," Kal said as levelly as she could, wondering where Legolas had gone. It was not hard to surmise that her word alone would not count for much with these men.

"I see what you are from afar, creature of Mordor. Your kind has no place here," the second man spoke then, joined by the first as they began to loom over her.

Eron released a low rumble, his jaw snapping twice.

"Eron, heed," Kal tried, her hand grasping the hilt of her sword.

But one sudden move from the Easterling and the wolf was upon him, its jaws aimed to bite. Though still slight and young, its frame had grown enough to cause damage and disruption in the case of an attack.

"Eron!" Kal attempted to reach the wolf as the elf had shown her, as she had succeeded once. It was all in vain. She could not think straight enough to focus now, and its mind was too turbulent.

"Call off the beast, you vile urchin!" the other man cried, taking Kal by the shoulder as she knelt to pull the gnashing wolf away. She fell back in shock and partly drew her sword.

The other's eyes glinted. "Who allowed one such as you here?"

"I did," a new voice said, and Kal closed her eyes before turning to see the approaching elf.

"Master Elf-" the men looked all manner of astonished, their eyes drifting between Legolas and the half-orc.

Narrowed eyes assessed what was before them, setting on Eron. The wolf calmed gradually, releasing the booted ankle from between its teeth. "She is no threat to you. Be on your way," Legolas said to them, though not menacingly. It was the same firm tone he had taken when lost in her grief, Kal had wanted to hunt down the Uruk-hai in the forests of Ithilien.

The two men appeared disturbed still, and unease creased their faces. They bowed their heads in greeting to Legolas alone before they went on their way without another glance toward Kal.

Kal breathed a sigh of relief, but that lasted little when he rounded on her.

"What did you think you were doing?" the elf hissed, his way confusing her yet again. There was no trace of the one she had witnessed earlier, standing so vulnerable barefooted near the seaside.

"I did nothing, I was about to defend myself-," Kal spoke into his stare.

"You do not draw your weapon here," stressed Legolas, the light of his eyes drowning in the fiery glow of the lamps.

Kal looked away. "They approached me. They were saying-"

"I know what they were saying-," the elf interrupted impatiently, causing her eyes to snap back at him. They held a hurt in them, and he saw it well and good. Perhaps that caused his scathing retort to die on his lips.

_Remember, you brought_ _her here._

Kal saw him breathe in deeply before the elf continued. "No one will harm you here," he followed closing his eyes, his voice more lenient. "But they will talk, and most of it will be scorn caused by fear." He looked her in the eye again. "You must not heed it."

Kal turned from him, feeling a sudden and ardent need to be alone. _Not much different to how things stood in Mordor. Did you truly think it would be otherwise, fool?_

"Kal," he called her name and she found it strange that despite the nature of this situation, she wished to hear it from him again, and again. "Will you do as I ask?"

"Yes, Legolas, I will do as you ask," she spoke with her back to him, her eyes tightly shut, her hand still clutching the sword hilt. "I will try."

"Good," she heard him say, and a strange tension gripped her chest. Why feel so incensed? He had interceded on her behalf. She had not needed him to, but this was his world, not the Black Land. She would need to abide by their rules. And yet, it was not she who had caused any sort of discord. _Why must I be the one to be meek, to surrender?_ All owed to what she was, a small, bitter voice spoke from the depths of her. Kal wished the thought away.

"A craven, good for nothing, hiding, tree-climbing, flower-kissing, moss-wearing sprite!"

Kal whirled around at the new booming voice, which seemed to grow in magnitude as it struck the cavern walls.

Her eyes caught a fast approaching figure. His form was stout, his hair long and curled around his face, streaked with white. His rich beard was reddish and braided, reaching down to his belt. His hair was spun in side braids ending in colorful beads, and his eyes were hooded and keen, sheltered behind reddish eyebrows. He wore brown leathers under a belted red tunic, studded boots and metal vambraces circled his forearms. And he was rather menacingly eyeing Legolas.

"When I am done with you, princeling, you shall heartily descry your lack of consideration, and you very well know I do not forget easily!" the speaker planted his feet before Legolas.

To her utter surprise, the dwarf before her then broke into a low honest rumble of laughter, meeting the elf's smile as they clasped their arms together in a salute. Then the dwarf caught the elf in a hardy embrace, and she grinned upon seeing Legolas grimace.

"Escaped the Black Land yet again. Now that counts as one point added to your score," the dwarf grumbled when he released Legolas. He crossed his strongly built arms over his sturdy middle.

"I never agreed to this, Gimli," the elf said morosely despite his small smile, even as the dwarf huffed his words away with a shake of his head.

"It is good to have you back, lad," grinned Gimli the dwarf, sounding truly relieved. "Good indeed."


	27. All that remains

Kal watched the commotion before her, listening to the muted murmurs of those gathering for a meal and community. She observed a large widened hearth of black stone carved into the wall at the back of the chamber, warming and bathing the enclosure in a reddish-gold light. It was strange, to witness the running of this place. There were no wails of pain or cruel laughter, no hurrying or fretting over beatings. No threats. There were no baleful glances exchanged between any of the inhabitants, no pushing, no fighting over morsels of meat of dubious origin. There was an order of sorts to it all and a quiet submission the inhabitants showed each other. All of it astonished the half-orc and caused the anxious knot in her chest owed to the encounter with the Easterlings to unfurl and disperse.

The dwarf was speaking, and she turned her gaze towards him.

"Aye, I had arrived not two hours ago when I heard you were here," the one called Gimli was saying before his piercing hard gaze shifted towards Kal. "And...," he looked to Legolas in askance.

"Gimli son of Glóin, this is Kal," the elf said steadily as his eyes found hers. "We met on my return and I have led her here to find rest and safety."

The dwarf seemed to appraise the being before him, his fingers gliding down his beard in swift and silent assessment.

Kal felt a different type of aura emanating from this creature, and it was completely new compared to the icy distrust of the elves.

"Is the wolf under your care?" was all the dwarf asked, tilting his bearded chin towards Eron.

"Eron is indeed," Kal replied a little surprised, leaning to stroke the thickening mane of the wolf, who watched the dwarf curiously, ears perked.

Kal thought she saw the corners of those discerning eyes crinkle slightly.

"Well then," Gimli looked back to the elf, "let's us three go see if there is any supper left," and with that, he proceeded towards an area lined with a stock of clay bowls.

Kal blinked. That was it? No glares, no insidious remarks or verbal sparring? She looked to Legolas, whose eyes revealed nothing as he extended an arm for her to follow after the dwarf.

Kal raised an eyebrow at the unusual gesture. "Your friend is... different," she spoke when the elf fell in step with her.

"That he is," Legolas replied, half a smile pulling at his lips.

Bowls in hand, they reached a corner of the wide enclosure where two women oversaw a number of large cauldrons with boiling contents. There were long metal ladles in each, which the dwellers would use to stir and pour. The three each filled a bowl with the contents being served and as they headed towards the tables Kal studied hers with interest. It was a type of strong smelling, thick broth. She saw pieces of what may have been meat, of unknown origin and different colors.

"Oyster stew," the dwarf leaned in to inform her.

"Oy-ster?" Kal raised an eyebrow, lifting a piece with the wooden spoon to inspect it better as they were being led by Legolas to one of the tables. It somewhat smelled of the sea, and Kal looked back to Gimli in confusion.

"Seafood abounds in the valleys and shallows here," the dwarf said in his gruff voice, "it makes a frequent meal here, it does. You get accustomed to the smell after a while," he added offhandedly.

Kal smiled despite herself, more than a little curious of this unassuming being. Who was this dwarf, who did not appear to resent her at first sight? He seemed to be a close companion of the elf, judging by how relieved Legolas was when they met. They were so different and yet, their manner towards each other was like nothing Kal had ever seen.

They reached a table where one other was already seated, and frowning, Kal realized she knew him. The dark-haired elf, one of two who had caught her unawares then taken her to the island blindfolded. Yes, one of the sentries he was.

His gaze was emptily cast upon the table but said elf lifted his head at their approach. When their eyes met Kal felt a withering chill, and the back of her neck prickled. His gaze was hard and unforgiving, scouring through her. As Legolas came to the table and passed by him, the other elf was still gaping at Kal before making a sudden move as to rise. His intent was swiftly foiled by a hand pressing heavily on his shoulder, forcing him back down. Legolas then took his own seat beside the now fuming elf, and the dwarf sat opposite Legolas with a brisk nod towards the other.

Kal took her seat close to Legolas, facing the dwarf. She could still feel the withering gaze of the other elf on her. _He is well and angry. Take no heed__._ It was clear as day that one had little to no regard for her, and the half-orc made it a point to keep vigilant if ever again met with his presence. Yet as her own eyes met his, letting all her pique smolder through them, in that grim and sullen expression Kal saw a tinge of familiarity. She furrowed her brow. He... reminded her of someone?

"Did you follow untroubled from the city?" Legolas was asking the dwarf, interrupting her trail of thought. Kal reached and glided her fingers through the fur of a growling Eron, lowered at their feet under the table.

"Aye, a little bribery and a keen eye go a long way, as you will never know," the dwarf was saying in jest.

Completely different to the manner of the elves, the lively spirit of the dwarf Gimli was beginning to influence her own mood for the better. A mood that darkened anew with the look the dark-haired elf was bestowing upon her. What was his name? Hoping he would cease, she met his stare evenly and so they sparred until Legolas caught his attention, addressing the other sharply in the elven tongue. She discerned one word. _Tadion._ She remembered. _That was his name._

The elf Tadion scowled then and rose suddenly from his seat, not without throwing both Legolas and Kal a look of utter disdain before leaving the table without another word.

Gimli watched Legolas with a strange expression, returning to his fare when the elf only sighed and shook his head.

The meal passed in silence, save for the fragments of quiet conversation the dwarf and elf maintained at times. Kal watched, intrigued at their jests and camaraderie, all of it so new and unusual to her. They spoke of the supplies, as the dwarf called them, which he had succeeded to obtain. Of the dangers and goings of a settlement called Pelargir, and Legolas shared his findings during his own journey. They spoke not of Kal, nor was she asked to speak at any point in time.

When finished the two friends established to meet on the morrow, and Kal also nodded her silent farewell before she called to the wolf, intent on heading back to her chamber to mull over the events of the day in peace.

"Kal, a word," the half-orc heard as she reached the corridor leading to her allotted abode, and turning her head saw Legolas follow.

Sighing she turned to face him fully, the sting of his manner from before still fresh, a fact that stirred and agitated her mind all the more.

"Well?" Kal asked when they were close enough, her eyes questioning.

The elf seemed to hesitate, but then reached and Kal watched his hand come placed on her shoulder. There was a slight grip, or her senses were failing her. His eyes held something foreign, and somewhat miserable in them. "You are not to blame for what happened earlier."

Kal averted her gaze, shrugging away from his touch. "I know that. And yet, it certainly felt as though I was."

His words had a sharper edge now. "That was not my intent. You are yet a new and strange presence here. I asked what I did of you as I cannot be there at all times to intervene-"

"Nor do I need you to," Kal interrupted harshly, then mellowed immediately under his darkening expression.

"I know you feel unwelcome, I never said it may be different. But these are good people, and they will all adjust to your being here, in time. When they will see-," his gaze strayed from her eyes only a moment, as though drawn to an unseen detail, "-what I see."

Ignoring the obvious question brimming at his remark, Kal focused on something else. "It sounds as though you think I would stay," she spoke, crossing her arms.

There was a long, unnerving silence, drowned by the murmurs reaching from the hall until Kal could take no more and sought his eyes again.

"You may, should you wish it," Legolas spoke finally, and she saw no change in his expression from before.

Kal opened her mouth, then closed it. The beating within was become irksome again, hammering away on its own, and only ever in his presence lately. It was an ailment of sorts. It must be. Or maybe it was this place. "Will you be here on the morrow?" she asked instead, smothering it all down.

"I will," said Legolas, his mien lighter than before. There was a crinkle between his brows as he watched her, as though he were scouring for a hidden truth or other.

"I will search for you. Until then," Kal finished, the need to be alone now reaching soaring heights. No, not alone, but well away from _him_. As fast as her legs could take her. Not waiting for his reply Kal resumed her pacing, whistling for the wolf to follow.

"Until then," the elf uttered more to himself, watching her retreating figure until it disappeared into a side corridor.

* * *

The following day Kal woke from an unusually dreamless sleep. An unexpected gift, but one she would not question in her gratefulness. She briefly aided a quiet and reserved Arwen in various chores that morning. When the elf maid had unexpectedly knocked on her chamber bearing a change of clothing, Kal had expressed her wish to be of aid and learn more of their community. And learn she did, realizing that the elf oversaw much of the administration to maintain their livelihood with the aid of the other womenfolk. Not few were the facets of their work, from preparing seafood for the midday meal to fueling the sconces lining the corridors, to taking various items to wash in an underground spring running beneath their mountain dwelling. There was little chatter among them and plenty of odd looks her way, though none complained.

Now Kal allowed her feet to lead her waywardly, treading over blades of grass that swayed in the never-ceasing winds. The happening of the previous evening would not leave her thoughts. Mainly it was the short clash involving the Easterlings which stubbornly lingered in her mind, and then the words which followed with Legolas. It all weighed heavily on her chest, and so after the morning tasks Kal had retrieved her weapon. Now, with Eron in tow, she followed the path shown to her by the elf the other day.

She walked, and walked, still simmering with the memory of his hard stare on her. A stare reminiscent of the times they resented one another as different races and definite enemies. But that certainty gradually lessened with their unlikely companionship, and now a great unknown was constantly wreaking havoc on her peace of mind. What it was though, Kal had little notion. Part of it spanned from seeing him stand so lost on the seashore, and from the sparse pieces of knowledge he had shared. So elves all _suffered_ through the waning of the world, and its wounds were their own. A disheartening prospect to be sure, moreover they were not even meant to dwell here ever after, but in a different place. A place where Power dwelled, and one now denied to them.

Kal felt a worrying sliver of _something_ when she recalled his face in the different situations and moments spent in his presence. The hatred in his eyes when she had taken the elfstone. His suspicious mien when Kal had asked him to trust her. His astonishment and sudden retreat after the elf had tended to her arrow wound in the lonely abode of Faramir. His hand, pressing into her back after they had fought over battling the Uruk-hai. She recalled the harrowing pressure in her chest when she watched him stand so brokenly before the grave of the ranger and his grandson. And the yet foreign light in his eyes, of anger and another quality she did not understand, after the elf had rescued her from the currents of the river. All of it would weed its way into her thought and lately, when they were not together, Kal found she wished they were. Why?

Bearing these thoughts she came atop a high plateau on the isle, lined with sparse trees and the sea ever in view. She inspected the lonesome landscape. This would do well enough.

Kal drew Faramir's sword and held the blade before her face. Amber eyes were mirrored in the metal sheen and new thoughts took hold, of her brief but precious time spent with one old human warrior and a quiet child. She recalled seeing the initial hatred of her in his own eyes, akin to the poisonous glares the elves regaled her with. The kind one particular elf kept bestowing upon her. But in the end, it was to be expected, however vexing it may be.

A fast swipe of the blade and she was spinning, pirouetting, and lunging with practiced steps. Kal allowed her thoughts to drift anew and pondered further on the life these beings led here. They were free. _She_ was free. But was her place here, among them? Apparently, Legolas thought so. Why did that matter? Her wonder over his motives for bringing her to their secret refuge would emerge more often than not. Yet they had not spoken of it at length. And Kal found it difficult to smother her brimming curiosity, deciding she would speak to him upon their following encounter.

The wailing wind lashed at her figure as she turned and slashed through the air, the whispering from the sea gaining precedence over her flowing thoughts. All was grey. The skies were of a light grey, reflected in the darkness of deep waters. Then, a sudden change, and a flash of angry red breached her mind, causing her to stagger back with the sudden pressure felt inside her aching head.

_Down..._

The word shrieked, insistent and ominous. The new, voiceless urging Kal did not understand caused her to nearly drop her weapon as she sought her balance, her free hand come to her forehead.

"Fine moves you are employing with that stolen sword," a voice hailed from somewhere in the vicinity.

Her eyes snapped open and Kal squared her shoulders when her gaze locked with that of the dark-haired elf, the one who sent nothing but glares her way the previous evening. She saw him propped against a tree with his arms crossed, looking out towards the sea.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted warily, attempting to shield her surprise.

Tadion scoffed and met her gaze. Kal was once again taken by the uncanny resemblance this one posed to Legolas. Though she also thought it was not far from the mark to assume, that all elves boasted similar features.

"What am_ I_ doing here? Are you certain that is the right question to pose, orcling?" the intruder asked derisively, eyeing her.

"You are following me," Kal said matter-of-factly, lowering her blade.

"How very astute of you."

"And I stole nothing if you must know," her pride said. "Its owner..." the half-orc swallowed the dread evoked by the image of a lifeless Faramir lying in the ground "...had no more use for it."

"_That_ I can believe," the elf retorted in an obvious tone of disbelief as he uncrossed his arms and righted himself from the tree trunk, stepping closer to the edge of the high platform they stood on.

"What is it you want?" Kal asked bluntly. She had no wish for words with this one, the memory of his eagerness to end her in the forest taking the fore in her mind.

"Nothing," Tadion spoke unto the landscape before him. "Your knowledge of Westron is quite commendable. I suppose there are teachings to be had even in Mordor," he followed thoughtfully. "Plenty of slaves to learn from."

Silence grew between them until it reached overly pressing proportions in her head. Could he perhaps, leave her be?

"Do you know how orcs came into being?" the elf asked suddenly and with no bite, interrupting the awkward quietude.

Kal frowned, unsure of his meaning and wary of what lay beyond it. He did not trust her, not in the least, that much was certain. She followed her surroundings, assessing to see whether they were truly alone.

"The orcs, your race, do you _know_ how they came into existence?" Tadion repeated with a tired sigh when Kal said nothing.

"I-..." In truth, she did not. Kal had always assumed orcs bred among themselves as she had seen them do. A shudder ran through her. She knew they were a race much, much older than the Uruk-hai. She knew they were clever. They were canny even if disorderly and chaotic, and were the inventors of many of the tools and torture devices used in the dungeons of the Black Land and without. Their mining skills were also quite advanced, considering the usefulness of such an endeavor to their kind. Kal also had a hefty notion of how sadistic, vicious, and hateful orcs could be. But no, she knew not how their race came into existence, save for the fact that they were a creation of the Other.

"It is no wonder that the truth would be smothered and forgotten among the lies of the Tower," the elf looked ahead towards the horizon. "The damnable wretches were bred by Morgoth as you surely do know, but the first," and his eyes trailed over her as his lip curled involuntarily, "...abominations of the ilk, were bred from kidnapped and mangled unfortunates of my own kind."

Kal swallowed, striving to hold her unease at bay. Where was he heading with this? What did he _want?_ "Were you there to see it?" Kal asked finally in a failed attempt to sound dismissive.

She may as well have kindled a forest fire.

The calm facade disappeared, and unveiled hatred shone through those striking eyes, its signs plain to see on his face. A face the half-orc dreaded to see in such a way, as it reminded her of-

_Cease whatever you are __thinking_ Kal willed unto herself, again confused by the stirring inside at the thought of him.

"Unlike your monstrous kin, we elves hold clear records, and our histories run as long as the Ages. Your petty words do not make it any less true. The orc were bred from elves, captured and mutilated by the fallen Vala your master slaved for," the words cut sharply. "They hate themselves more than anything else, but surely you know that. Chaos is their plight, as Morgoth took what was intended creation and twisted it into a mockery of my kind. And so," his words had long lost of their passion, having become whispers on the wind. "You can imagine what the sight of one such as you would wreak upon my kin."

Her unease rose with the way he was staring at her. As if she were a great looming threat, one to eradicate and purge. Still, the half-orc at least wished to glean his meaning. "One such as me?" she sheathed her sword and crossed her arms, resting her weight on one leg.

Tadion leveled her with a confused, piqued gaze. "Have you truly never pondered on the duality you pose?"

"I had little time to ponder overmuch on anything_._ I was too occupied with staying alive, you see," Kal bit out, half-turning to leave while she could still rein her ire. But his words kept her still. "How do you mean, duality_?_"

Her lack of knowledge seemed to both astonish and rile him. But then Tadion grinned as if the workings of a game had been revealed to him.

"Oh...," and unnervingly, his smile turned fey. He placed two fingers to his chin in contemplation. "He has not told you..."

Kal knew whom this elf was referring to, and her curiosity took the better of her despite her growing resentment of him. "Tell me _what_?"

Green eyes cut to hers briefly before the elf burst into a short, mirthless fit of laughter.

"Cease your taunting will you?" the half-orc threw, more incensed than she wanted to be, losing her patience and all the more irate due to it. But then why should _anything_ Legolas had left unsaid matter? Better yet, why did it matter _to her?_

Tadion was positively jubilant at her vexed state. His chin dipped slightly as he watched Kal. "That, I will leave to his Highness to share," he said with a sharp smile, eyes narrowing. "I am certain he has his... reasons for concealment."

"His _Highness_?" Kal frowned. "Speak your meaning," she demanded, angry with her own hapless confusion.

The smile slipped from his face as if it were a mask. "Yes, orcling, or did you not know? That the one you have somehow ensnared to lead you here comes from a great line of kings? But then again, I suppose it matters not, why should he tell you?" he finished gravely, and Kal saw renewed hatred in his eyes, the fair face before her darkening in memory. "Not when there is no kingdom to speak of," he looked towards the sea. "But once, not too long ago, there was. It was great, and green as far as the eye could see. And... what your kind hates the most: it was full of light."

For reasons unknown, a vision from the past swam into view. One she had seen back when Legolas had tended to her wound in Faramir's shack.

"We had a mother, our queen," Tadion was saying, and Kal wondered why he chose to speak of this to her, of all people. "And the king was our father. He was great and noble to a fault," the elf approached with slow steps as he spoke.

"Your... you and Legolas are kin?" her eyes widened. She knew of family structures from the human slaves of Mordor. Her heart dropped to her feet. Of course, their appearance, their manner. Yet this one hated her passionately, while the other... The other had become her first and only friend.

"We are brothers," Tadion confirmed. "And we had a home, and a people, and there was darkness but we made do, and we held our own against the Shadow for a good time after the great war."

Kal wanted to speak but words refused to form, and despite wishing to flee before she did something unseemly, was rapt with attention. She resisted the urge to step back when the elf came to stand before her.

"Do you know where my mother is now?"

Kal opened her mouth-

"Dead," he hissed. "Do you know where our king is?"

"What does this have to do with-"

"Dead," Tadion spoke over her. "Our people, massacred or else taken into slavery. _I_ was to be wed if you have any notion of its meaning. Need I tell you what happened to her?"

Kal gaped, still failing to understand where the elf was heading with this, though dread took hold when faced with the sheer truth of how much they had lost. How much _he_ had lost.

"I found...," and there was a flicker of madness in his eyes as the elf raked them over Kal, "I found what was left of her at the base of the treetop dwelling of her parents. All of them, felled by _your_ kind, under command of _your_ master," Tadion continued, appearing angrier with each word, his eyes never leaving her. "All that remains of us now, is what you see before you."

"I have turned from that path, I serve no one but myself," Kal said swiftly. "And Legolas-"

"Dare not go on!" the other snarled, all pretense abandoned. "This may work on my brother, for reasons which both disgust and appall me but do _not_ presume to lay your wiles upon me," the elf threw.

"I owe you nothing, and hold no blame for your loss-," Kal attempted, her voice strained.

"Be silent!" Tadion growled. "Only remember this: I am watching you, and when you take the wrong turn, a wrong step, I will be there." He ceased for a moment as if wanting a reaction from her, daring her to act. "And you will," he said triumphantly and with finality to a boiling Kal, whose fists were tightly clenched in an effort to not lash at him. "Your kind always does."

Eyes blazing more red than golden by now, Kal strove to maintain her bearing. She promised. She would not begin any brawl nor be drawn into a fight. She promised him.

Kal watched his sharp turn and retreat, all the while attempting to forget and bury the words the elf had spewed, whether by intent or no.

_Little wonder he loathes me. Little wonder they _all _loathe me. _And then...

_A prince, _Kal slumped down onto a boulder. A prince, of elves no less. Kal lowered her head, the wind blowing strands of hair out of her braid, unforgiving against her skin. _Mother, father, people. Lost._ All she had never known and never had to begin with. She inhaled the salty air, willing the murmurs of the sea to aid her writhing inner turmoil. But her chest felt frayed and raw, and somehow her eyes became misty and her vision blurred. Kal looked to her fists, repeatedly curling and uncurling her fingers.

_"He has not told you..."_

Whatever it was, Kal decided she would ask it of him. And then the realization crashed against her. It dispersed any and all chance of peace, ever accompanied by a dull, pulsing ache.

_You have come to trust him._

_And now you see he does not._


	28. Gold and Grey

Legolas leaned against the wooden table, close to where Gimli the dwarf toiled away within his forge. He and others of his kin spent their days working within the place they had wrought to be used as a smithy, to serve the meager community dwelling hidden on the isle of Tolfalas.

"And so, Faramir refused to come?" the dwarf was asking, beating a reddened piece of metal placed onto an old anvil.

Legolas nodded, his mien disheartened. "You know the rest."

"Lad, twas not your fault, nor is it your burden to bear. There was nothing more you could have done," Gimli shook his head.

There was silence again, the beating of the hammer the only sound lashing against the dark torchlit walls.

"Am I a fool, Gimli?" The elf lowered his head and sighed. "Perhaps the others have the right of it. Maybe I am simply losing track of the present, lost in the past."

Gimli retrieved a pair of tongs with his gloved hands. "Ask yourself this instead. Is there usefulness in wallowing? Is there a point in denying that which keeps you going? And, looking at you, I fear this still does," the dwarf said as he regarded his friend.

"I cannot cease searching, not until I know for certain. I owe it to him, Gimli... to them. Besides, what other purpose do I have now? Aside from the isle. We have nowhere to go, nothing to gain."

"That may be so," the dwarf offered, frowning as he struck the workpiece with more emphasis.

Legolas placed a palm to his forehead. "Either way there are those who think I have gone mad lately," he smiled mirthlessly.

Gimli stopped his action and regarded the elf. "In reference to the young creature you led here, I presume."

His friend nodded, looking very tired.

The dwarf looked him over from head to toe, then shrugged. "You have ever been a strange one compared to the rest of your kin, thus in all honesty, this is of little surprise to me."

"And do you also think I made a mistake?" Legolas smiled drily.

Gimli eyed the elf. "It may be too soon to tell, would you not say? All that I know, is I have felt no evil coming from her. She seems honest enough. And perhaps..." but then his friend pursed his lips as though reconsidering his words, and looked back to his work.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, propping one hand against the table."Perhaps, what?"

Gimli may have been smiling under his beard. "Ah, Legolas, I will decline to pry. But all I know is that you have not seen fit to lead anyone else here, not for many a year."

The elf grimaced, feeling unsettled when met with this truth. He thoughtfully regarded the flaming metal before him, too tired to dwell on the many facets of the topic at hand. "While I am not certain I see how that is relevant here-,"

It was Gimli now who regarded him, and there was a perfectly knowing light in his eyes.

There was no use being snide about it. He stood a little straighter. "-I suppose you are right."

* * *

Kal peered at Eron, sleeping in the corner of her small abode. Evening had descended and she had returned to her dwelling space without encountering anyone else. She was all the more grateful for it, her thoughts still clouded by her earlier unwilling encounter with the elf Tadion. She rummaged through herself and ruminated on his words for a good few hours, considering whether she should even search for his brother anymore. Kal had told him she would, but now was unsure whether she could meet that icy gaze, knowing what she did. Sighing, Kal shook herself of her dread and decided to go and see if there was a meal to be had this evening. She looked to the pallet where she had placed her sword. Deciding she would leave the weapon behind this time, Kal rose and changed into a grey tunic provided to her before heading down towards the wide eating hall. Accustomed to it by now, the half-orc noticed the dwellers of the mountain as they passed by. The tables were mostly empty for it was late, and there was no familiar face in sight. Kal saw no food nor anyone serving, and sighing realized she missed her chance. _Oh well. _She had gone far longer without and in worse circumstances, and would make do this time as well.

"Kal," she heard her name being spoken and cursed inwardly, unsure whether she could do this _now_, with the words of the other elf still ringing in her ears.

Still, she turned to face him. So be it. "I know I said that I would find you, but-"

Legolas waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Apparently there was no escaping it, since we have found each other," he said with half a smile, one that made her frown.

"May we speak, somewhere?" Kal asked without preamble, finding his grey stare.

The elf nodded, conceding thoughtfully. "Follow me."

And she did, being led up and down, and then upward again until the pair reached another opening in the mountainous wall, where Kal saw a platform and a seating bench of sorts. The night was black and windy, as ever seemed the case in this place. Thunder rolled and bellowed in the distance, the sign of an approaching storm. Though high above the ground Kal admitted this was a good place to sit and ponder, and was thankful they could speak alone. She walked ahead of him, passing the bench.

"What did you wish to speak about?" asked the elf, exuding that familiar stillness that irked her.

She sighed, her shoulders brought forward. "Why have you brought me here, Legolas?" the words spilled, though they held no bite. She looked to her feet. "So I can see how I will never suit?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow, but kept his silence, assuming there was surely more to it.

Kal turned to face him. "So I can realize that nothing I ever do differently will matter to anyone due to my origins, and the legacy I carry?" she asked unhappily, speaking more as to herself.

So this was the matter. Wondering what had prompted this renewed doubt, the elf pursued to know more. "Who said your change of heart, mind, and allegiance does not matter? Who said a chance of redemption does not matter?" he stepped towards her.

"Your brother, as well as everyone else certainly seems to think so," she looked him in the eye.

His brother? What had Tadion done? The elf hesitated briefly, gathering his thoughts. "I see he has made his acquaintance. My brother speaks for no one but himself. And if he did find you, and threaten you, which I assume would not be far from the mark by the look in your eyes, I will speak with him again-"

"No!" Kal interrupted harshly. "I will not hide from him, nor have him think his threat has shaken me in some form," she said determinedly into his stare.

They regarded each other for a few moments before Legolas spoke again, his tone placid. "As you wish."

Kal turned to the blackness of the world without, stepping ahead of him. "And you?"

"What of me?" the elf sighed, guessing where this was leading.

Why was he forcing her to say it? She nudged a small rock with her foot, sending it tumbling over the edge. "Do you resent me as well?"

"Resent you?" he frowned.

"Yes, elf. For what happened to your home, and your people. For your... parents," Kal finished meekly, and he caught the unsteady waver in her voice.

He closed his eyes as realization struck. Of course, Tadion could not rein himself. "Is that what you think?" his voice had a softness to it now, surprising even himself as the elf went to her again, stopping close to where Kal now stood with her arms crossed.

Legolas took a deep breath before speaking the words, his voice barely audible, but enough for her to hear. "I admit I did, once. I hated you. I despised what you meant, what you represented. The circumstances of our meeting helped matters little. But then..." he trailed away, and Kal did not hedge him to speak.

"But then, I saw your honesty in wanting to be free of your former life," he continued, the words coming steady and from a place deep within. "I saw, that you possessed the ability to care for others, and was witness to your attempts in keeping them safe. I saw how much you had yet to know of the world, such as it is, and what a shame and a loss it would be for it to remain so. And for all those reasons and more I have brought you here. Because I..." Legolas paused, and they both heard the waves and their pursuits below them, crashing against the cliffs without. "...I trust, that you will find your way, and discover more of yourself. And I hope that you will one day succeed in living free of your shadows." It was true, and he had meant all of it. The elf said no more, waiting for her to speak in her own time.

"But still you do not trust me_._ Else why withhold that which others apparently know?"

The night suddenly weighed heavily upon him. "If you tell me more of your meaning, I may attempt to clarify," he added coldly.

They faced each other closer than before, and Kal dreaded her lack of will to pull away. "I know not what it is," she admitted. "Your brother merely said it was yours to tell, _prince_ Legolas. And that you had not told me of it."

He lowered his head at her use of his forgotten title, then eyed her briefly. Of course. But then, what did it matter? She ought to know. There would be turmoil and confusion. But it was a part of who _she_ was. And so, the elf neared her, even closer, looking her in the eye. "Such a strange fate..." he spoke, keeping her locked in his gaze, "...not knowing what you are."

He saw her brow furrowing, and Kal shook her head. "Elf, you must cease speaking in riddles to me. Either tell me everything or tell me nothing." She flinched when Kal gleaned he had reached for her hand, feeling his calloused fingers, warm against her skin.

She snatched her own hand away, finding her knees were not as helpful as before. It was most worrying, and she was unused to this manner of his, where before most of their physical interaction had consisted of either fighting foes or each other.

Legolas watched her for a while, eyes unblinking, before once again reaching to slowly lift their joined hands together between them. His fingers weaved with hers.

"Elf-," Kal began, startled, unsure how to end this, or if she could, or whether she wanted to.

"Listen," was all he said.

She did. She tried. There was nothing but the warmth of him at first. Kal closed her eyes. Nothing, nothing, nothing...

A burst of color, and foreign blackness gilded with light. It flooded her mind. She had seen this before, she...

"Green," Kal whispered after long moments, her lips parting in wonder.

"Yes," the elf replied in kind, watching her changing expression and feeling her fingers lose of their stiffness, welcoming his hold. "What else do you see?"

Kal was silent for a while then, and he thought of nothing as he freely studied her features.

"It appears to be... a dwelling... a Hall?" she replied then, "Wild, but hallowed. All is perfectly where it should be, bright and... fair to look upon."

The elf focused his thought along the paths of spiraling memory, feeling the connection freely flowing; one which had left him so confused the first time it had unexpectedly opened between them.

"Lights," Kal was saying. "I have never seen such laden skies. So... so many of them!" she spoke with hasty excitement. "They tremble strangely," the half-orc whispered.

"The stars," he supplied, and his focus was on her face, on the quirk of her mouth as her lips curved into a smile. The elf sharply lowered his eyes, but his grip on her hand remained.

A chilly wind now caressed and lapped at their figures, filtering through their garments. The faraway storm at sea howled louder. Legolas felt her sudden grip then, and saw her other hand digging into his arm; he found that he could not draw away nor indeed do anything other than stand there, feeling rather lost and trapped, and no less dismayed at the pieces slowly but surely falling into place within him.

When the images and colors faded, Kal opened her eyes, searching his. "Did you... was it _you_ who did this?" she asked in disbelief.

Legolas regarded her as dark eyebrows lifted in confusion, her mouth having lost of its tension. Her eyes were hazy, as if awakened from a dream. He stilled when her hand reached for him again, allowing her fingers to ghost over his brow, following the lines of his face.

"That was home, once," the elf said taking no heed of her actions, knowing the half-orc keenly felt the warmth of his hand. Just as he felt hers. Then he felt her unease.

"How is this possible?" Kal demanded to know in astonishment, his expression showing enough to worry her. Her hand unwillingly dropped from his face.

"Have you never wondered-" he tried for an answer when Legolas felt a sudden and vicious lashing raging through his mind, swift pain shooting up his arm, and time stood still as he watched her widening eyes. He heard her smothered hiss before Kal began to sway on her feet, crumbling before him.

The elf cried out her name, catching her by the arms as her knees buckled and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

And amid his startled surprise and a novel, debilitating state of worry he failed to understand, he saw it.

The fumes, the adamant walls. Burning. All burned its way through her, through them. The same, tormenting image he had seen in many of his nightmares through the dark daze of recent years. Except in his night terrors, _he_ was always there, in this place, the grey, mottled hair and the White Tree on his breast; crying in agony and no matter how much the elf called to him and begged, he would never hear.

She burned red hot and without the whisper of a sound Kal fell against him. Though still in shock from what he had seen, Legolas had the presence of mind to place an arm behind her knees, lifting her off her feet. He shot towards the entrance swifter than an arrow from his bow.

As he hurriedly walked to the inside of their dwelling to find Arwen, the elf looked upon the one he held to him; her head had fallen back, her arms hung lifelessly. She was so frail and young now to his eyes, seemingly become smaller against him. What had passed? Those last glimpses he had seen, they must have been hers. Surely they were hers. Legolas listened for the thrum of life as he lifted her closer, and felt a form of relief.

But the vision would not disperse. The one which had haunted his days and nights, and which he had seen anew. From _her_. She knew that place. She must. The very same place Aragorn would wallow and cry against in his dreams, and one the elf knew so well by now. If she knew what it was, and where it was-

Unsteady hope brimmed within him, siding with the worry over her current state. The urgency of it caused his heart to hammer wildly away, his stride gaining in speed. _I am here, _he willed the thought to reach her, unable to hold it at bay. For as long as she needed. The bare truth of it failed to even astonish him anymore.


	29. Chances to wonder

"She has had nothing to eat? Nothing to drink that you know of?"

Legolas shook his head, regarding a motionless Kal he had lain onto a soft pallet. "We were... speaking, and I... connected, with her," he said reluctantly, not meeting the eyes of the elf maid. "It was then that it happened, too sudden for me to understand why."

Arwen knelt and placed a steaming bowl with athelas brew beside the pallet. She regarded the still fevered being lying there before her gaze caught that of Legolas.

"You did such a thing unknowing of how it would affect her?" but there was no chastisement. Only the determined mien of a healer searching for a root cause.

"It was not the first time," he admitted, looking away from Arwen towards Kal, his grey eyes catching the strained rise and fall of her chest.

"I see," Arwen said. "I have administered essence of uilos, to aid in lowering the fever. She will need to be watched for changes."

"I will stay," Legolas stated. Indeed he felt somewhat responsible.

Arwen placed a hand on his arm. "Her state is stable enough. I cannot determine the cause at this time, but this should pass with enough rest. You need not worry. "

The elf made a vague motion with his hand, looking away. "You think too much of me."

He felt a palm gently placed to his cheek, and turned to regard the daughter of Elrond Half-elven. Her eyes were filled with an understanding that turned his insides to ash. "Oh, my friend," Arwen soothed. "You have ever been the bravest among us." She dropped her hand at his frowning silence, turned away, and left without another word.

He watched her retreat, thoughtful and still in the wake of the only rebuke Arwen would ever make.

* * *

Kal awoke from a state of bleak nothingness. She remembered at once the swelling tide of malevolence spearing through her before she lost contact with the waking world. It was all too fresh in her mind, as were the unwanted memories torn from her thought. She stirred with a wince, rising slowly on her elbows. She then felt a presence.

"Well met," Kal heard a familiar voice hailing somewhere to her left.

She turned her head and looked upward, catching sight of silvery hair aglow from the fiery light of several sconces. Kal saw that she had been reclining on a pallet just as Legolas moved to sit by her side.

"You had a fainting spell," he was looking her over with an expression Kal found rather odd. Like she had grown a second head, possibly. "How do you feel?"

"Well enough," she managed weakly. _More so since you are here. _She felt rather chastened by that thought, and instead focused on the strong herbal smell wafting through the air.

"We are in the healing chamber, close to the apothecary," the elf supplied to her questioning gaze.

Kal attempted to move, only to find her head spinning. She lay back down onto the - she realized - ridiculously soft pillow, her black hair fanned in a tousled mess about her. "I remember nothing much, except sudden pain," she told no one in particular.

"I know."

Her eyes cut to his. "Riddles again?"

"No," came the offhanded reply, and Kal saw him lean forward, towards her.

"What-" Kal choked when she felt his warm palm, briskly placed on her forehead, then her cheek, briefly pressing the side of her neck. She jolted at the warm pressure. He felt so close Kal was reminded of a not too distant past. She was in the forest again. But instead of decay and the inescapable odor of death, it was clean, dewy, and good. It lingered but a few fleeting moments, more than enough for her to drift on that scent; one Kal remembered from a time when she had roughly thrown a shackled elf against a tree. It was, perhaps, not the main reason for the unsettling tension now come pooling within her tired frame. But when he slowly drew away, leaving a cold mark over her skin where his touch had been, Kal belatedly wished he had not. That was until she saw his eyes.

"Your fever subsided," Legolas said, watching her face, appearing utterly detached and unaware of her struggles. But the words were strangely spoken, his posture eerily still. His upper body was still turned towards Kal, and his hand was now placed close to her opposite shoulder. Her flayed and recuperating mind flew asunder when she looked at him, emptily, as a last desperate try for freedom.

"Rest, for now," the elf urged, angling his body from her as he made to turn away. "We can speak later."

"What is that which I should be wondering about?" the words spilled from Kal as she recalled the immediate circumstances before her fall. The first and last of what she remembered since her sudden collapse.

She watched him change. In what way, one could barely tell, but she knew it was happening. _Cornered, _she concluded with a moderate amount of wearied surprise. The elf seemed cornered. For the first time, she saw him appear... fretfully hesitant? Lost? Rueful?

"I will tell you of it all, but as I said, I think it best to leave this for later." His words were curt, and he looked weary.

Where had this dismissal been earlier, Kal wondered, the thought gnawing at her. When he was showing her, apparently through some strange ability or magic she thought, images of the past? Or were they even-...

The Tower. Her mind had burst into flame, the memory taking over whatever peace, whatever loveliness the elf had attempted to share with her. And he had seen it as well. She felt him see it, fear it. Hate it. Kal wondered if he would think... what he would think of it, if anything at all.

"I would speak of it now," Kal said resolutely, ruled by the pique of someone having missed their chance. Her hand had come to grip his garment at his chest, a fact both appeared to notice only now.

"This happened before," her eyes narrowed. Under her clutching fingers Kal felt a renewed, wild, and irregular cadence. It drummed with a force unwavering, begging to be heard and felt, closer. "In the woods, in the shack," she followed, her grip stronger as thoughts mingled together finally, cast in a different shade.

Commendably, the elf held her gaze with near defiant steadiness. "Release me," he said tightly, withstanding her searching eyes with that same air of cold detachment. His face showed nothing but the silent, grudging tumult she felt behind his ribs spoke more than she would ever hope to glean.

Kal felt his fingers, firmly latching between hers; she realized he had freed himself from her trapping grip only when the elf brought her hand back to rest at her side, before moving to regain his initial place.

Again he sat with his back against the wall close to her side, his hands fallen lifelessly in his lap.

Rather annoyed now that reality was coming back to her in all its light and shadow, Kal wondered what kept him here precisely, if certainly not his eagerness for conversation and reveal.

"Your present condition will not make this easier," he said harshly, while at the same time sounding rather tired. Farther away now.

"You did this back then, you..." Kal rose unsteadily on her elbows again. "And then you denied it," she said even as the realization caused a frown on her drawn face. One she sharply directed his way. "Why?"

The elf appeared to be studying the many hanging dried herbs on the walls with unflinching interest. "Because I was not sure why it happened. Because it should not have been possible."

Kal slowly twisted her upper body, rising to her knees against the pallet and turning to face him fully. She leaned forward on her palms, inspecting the now thoroughly discomfited manner of the being before her.

"There may have been a time when I thought you were mute, but since I know you are not, more detail would be welcome."

His eyes flashed at the barb but soon lost the fire of whatever retort he bit back. Legolas sighed tiredly, causing unease to brim inside of her. "I fear you and I are more similar than you think."

Her brow creased. "Explain."

The elf leaned resignedly against the wall, his head resting against cold stone. "Did you never ask yourself why your appearance stood so apart among your former brethren?"

Kal felt only a little grateful for his neutral tone in referring to her time among the armies of Mordor.

"Not as such," she admitted. Where was he going with this, now?

"Did you never truly ask yourself why you were so unlike the orc in so many things, why you bled differently, why your needs were other than theirs?" and surrendering to whatever ruled over him, the elf leaned forward.

She swallowed at the intensity of him, so unexpectedly centered on her. "No," Kal spoke quietly. "At least not in a constant manner. I had little chance, and fewer reasons. To wonder."

The elf tilted his head knowingly, thinking of the hard and trying life she surely had led. When had the line of opposing sides melded and blurred so much, that he could not even guess as to where its ends lay anymore? "I suppose you did not. When I met you, I felt it. I felt you were _something_ else, though I dared not entertain the thought of what set you apart from them for too long. There was also the fact that I was in danger of losing my life, and you were beating me," he said in a failed attempt at dry wit. "But despite your allegiance and behavior at the time, it was ever there."

Kal listened raptly, both worried and grateful he was speaking. Both unnerved and somehow, in one stubborn, hidden recess, betrayed and lied to, thinking back to what she had felt and seen when the elf tended to her in the dwelling of Faramir. How real it had felt, and how cold and dismissive his eyes had been when Kal asked him of it later. Yes, it was good he was speaking. Better late than never, she pondered wryly.

"What was ever there?" she dared ask at last.

The elf leaned forward imperceptibly. "I believe, you are... you are not too different to myself, or Tadion, or indeed any other elf you have seen."

Kal sharply drew back, her head begun to spin in the most irksome manner. She brought a palm to her forehead. "You have either gone mad or I have. Because it sounds as if you are saying that we are of the same kindred."

"That _is_ what I am saying. Partly, at least."

Kal shifted away from him, attempting to keep her growing distress at bay. "That is impossible."

"Is it?" Legolas continued, undeterred, and much too emotionless for her liking. "What happened earlier is impossible to achieve unless the soul of the other, the fëa as we call it, is of the same... make," he settled for the earthy term.

"Sha!" Kal exclaimed in the Black Speech, uncaring of his wince. "Ridiculous," she stared towards the door, her arms crossing around her middle.

"You are hopelessly shut to anything I or anyone else would share of import. This is why I wanted to speak later," the elf groused. And additionally, he thought, to ask her of that miserable place he had seen in her memories.

"Then, if it were true," Kal disregarded his remark, "I have my answer as to why you led me here. Not because you saw some chance of redress. Not because you... we, were become friends on certain terms. But the chief reason being, you thought I was part elf in nature, and a chance of redemption seemed far likelier than if circumstances were different," she said thoughtfully.

Legolas stilled for a moment. Then discontent lined his voice. "Do not hurl your unfounded conclusions into my face, Kal. I have kept things to myself to give _you_ time. I have never lied nor been willfully dishonest with you."

"Perhaps not until it suited-" Kal looked ahead of them, her thought interrupted by fast approaching footsteps.

Both companions turned their gaze to the entrance, which soon revealed a stiff and sharp glanced Tadion.

His gaze roamed swiftly over them both before his mouth barely subdued a snarl. "You are needed," was all he said to Legolas in their own speech even as the other elf was already rising, sensing the urgency of the entreaty.

"What is it?" his brother asked, having gained his feet and striding towards the entrance.

"Orophin has caught sight of intrusion, on the bank close to the crossing," Tadion began, his manner changed from disgruntled sibling to reporting captain. "Uruk-hai."


	30. Pleas and Promises

As the two brothers paced together to reach the rafts Tadion imparted the latest tidings. "There appears to be a company of them, from what Orophin had seen. Not close enough to the hidden way as to have discovered it, but they roam in the vicinity. It is unclear whether they will set camp or if the dispatch of Mordor has increased in the area." His words were measured and even, a soldier delivering vital details to his better.

"How many in their group?" asked Legolas.

"A larger number than fifteen, which is unusual."

They could not risk detection. Though that which aided in keeping the isle and its signs of habitation well hidden from fell incursions might be sufficient, there was true peril in the enemy's presence here. The last anyone needed was dispatches of the Dark One searching and lingering around the immediate perimeter of land to the left of the Mouths of Anduin.

"Is everyone underway?"

"Of course," Tadion supplied stiffly.

The silence that followed was heavy, grating.

"Say your piece. I know you burn to," Legolas muttered as they strode side by side.

"Only answer me this. Are you so lonely?" Tadion threw, though with less spite than before. "Are you so miserably alone that you cannot rein yourself?"

"You never disappoint," Legolas spat, the words cutting as only Tadion could muster. "My life has never been your business, and it will not become so now. I will also thank you to cease your interference and your threats; they are lowly and hateful, all of which is unbecoming of your line and legacy."

"How can you _trust_ a whelp of Mordor!" his brother cried, inflamed. "You, Legolas, one who showed no mercy, who swore to fight against them until your dying breath, and yet there you were, tending to that half-breed brat!"

Legolas stopped and faced his brother. "Curb your slander before I do." The curt tone and his stare broke no room for argument.

Tadion clamped his mouth shut with a scowl of disdain, looking darkly after his brother as he regained his steps. He followed.

"Do you think it not strange that no such peril plagued us for many a year, and now that _she_ is here, we have this to contend with?"

The older elf dared not entertain the possibility. "Presupposition is a dangerous slope, brother," was all he said to a still tumultuous Tadion.

"I only hope you are still in a condition to lead us, blinded as you are," Tadion grumbled, sounding weary. "I am heading to get us spare arrows." And with that he left his brother, his gaze a wild green reminiscent of blackened forests.

As he was hurrying to join the others to the crafts, Legolas heard another set of rushed steps. Turning his head, he saw Kal approaching in fast strides. Her sword hung at her hip. He left so suddenly when Tadion retrieved him; he had not even said his farewells. Now, in a way, he welcomed the sight. But he also dreaded the following struggle.

Kal ran to join him, and he saw her skin was still a grey, sickly hue from the night's happenings.

The elf braced himself with the decision against whatever urge told him differently.

"You stand down," he shook his head. "You are in no shape to fight."

He felt her hand on his forearm, urging a cease to his stride.

Met with her eyes, the elf saw brief confusion but also steely resolve and defiance. The quiet, wound kind of defiance that only younger beings ever seemed to possess. He knew it well, for he had been much the same.

"I wish to aid you. I must. I know their ways, remember?" Kal asked, her voice hard.

The elf glared at her. "There is no time for this. You very well know how to adhere to a chain of command. And I have just given you your order. We will return," and with that dismissal he turned away, only to be held back in that forceful grip he knew she was capable of.

"There is no sound reason for this, I am on my feet!" Kal spewed in one breath, disheartened at being left behind when she knew the value of her contribution. "You cannot do this," she seethed, staring him down though he was taller.

His body went taut as the elf roughly pried his arm from her hold. "I am the head military in rank here," he followed. "I assure you, I can."

"Why do you insist on this, elf?" Kal demanded with no little amount of vexation, appealing not to the leader, but to the one who was her friend.

He only turned from her to walk away again, but Kal was undeterred. She followed him with a determined gait, though her head felt the weakening spin anew.

She halted when he sharply whirled to face her, and there was ire and again, that blasted plea in his eyes leaving her raw and wanting.

"Here is your reason," his warm hand slipped around her nape, and all dimmed as he leaned closer to her. "I would have no harm come to you."

It was a feat of strength to prop her own palms against him. His heartbeat fueled her resolve. "And you think heading into peril, alone, achieves that?" she choked, barely keeping from swaying under his gaze. "Not a worthy enough reason."

"It is, to me."

Kal sighed in frustrated agony, distracted by the way his fingers trailed through her tresses as he released her. It was a wearisome fight, and she had lost.

"I will not be alone," the elf spoke into her stare. "Please."

And so her posture crumbled under the weight of that one word, his eyes, and his voice, so different from before.

"I need..." he paused, as if angry with himself for some self-inflicted slight. "I need to know you are safe." Then a thought brimmed in his mind. There was no certainty to these endeavors. Anyone could perish. _He_ could perish. "Kal, there is but one matter I would ask of you. Please tell me what you know, as it holds great importance to me. What was that place I saw from you last, before your fall?"

Kal swallowed the bothersome knot, depriving her of words. The memory was rekindled, and her face became strained with it. "Why?"

"I know that place," his eyes were locked on hers as he spoke, "I have seen it before, in my... in my nightmares."

Her mouth dropped agog. "You have seen the-... the Tower?"

The world was become too heavy, too much. And it was crashing all around him. "The Tower?" his eyes gleamed wildly as the elf caught her by the arms, bringing her to him without thought. "That place was the Tower? Barad-dûr itself?"

"Yes," Kal whispered, watching so many meanings flit across his face.

"It cannot be," the elf murmured, staring through her. But it was. It very well could be. _He_ was... could he? The implications made his head spin dangerously. But now there were other matters to focus on. "In the Tower... _he_ may be..."

"What are you saying, Legolas?" Kal asked, his faraway stare unnerving. Such an unpredictable creature he could be.

His eyes refocused on her. "Gratitude. We will speak more of this on my return." He took two steps back.

Kal swallowed. "Come back alive." It was a plea she could not rein.

The slight upward curl of his lip had her reeling.

"I usually tend to." With that, he saluted her in his strange way, a palm to his chest, and left.

"Alive and well..." Kal said as she followed his swift and weightless steps, feeling crippled, the fretting and disturbing need within her reaching heights unknown.

She neared slowly, loath to witness all the preparation denied to her. Kal went towards the harbor area and saw a few others she did not know, convening with Legolas and Tadion. Gimli the dwarf was there as well. He bore a great battle axe and was speaking in uneven terms of how they would crush the wretches, how he would enjoy it. They were armed and ready, having proceeded swiftly.

Kal watched as they all embarked. Her gaze locked on the elves; on the one who had been the prince of his people.

Watching him leave had never felt so wrong.


	31. What lies ahead

Night veiled the group gliding through dark waters, come from the southeastern side of the isle of Tolfalas. There was a single craft bearing its tense and grim burden, and none knew what awaited them on the edge of land which posed their destination.

Legolas knelt beside Tadion, his quiver slung across his back, bow in hand. Tadion handed his brother a long, white knife since his own had been lost when captured by the company of orc in Ithilien.

_Ithilien. _Legolas closed his eyes. The place where he unexpectedly crossed paths with a creature the elf never thought he would come to know, to befriend, to... care for? He grimaced. Yes, he did care, a fact undeniable despite the grudging hold of his denial, and still the elf knew not what to make of it. The mere thought of it was absurd. And yet, there was no denying the clear and undisturbed weaving they shared, having already happened not once, but twice. And apart from it all, the half-orc has become instrumental in his following effort, for the knowledge she possessed.

Barad-dûr. Whenever his guilty mind summoned his friend, Aragorn was ever in the same place._ Entrapped. In Barad-dûr._ It was too precise, too detailed and it all felt too real to be a figment of his desperate guilt. And _she_ knew the Tower. She had been there, lived here, suffered within its walls. Legolas was certain he would undoubtedly need her aid. He had to gain intelligence on the surroundings, inside mapping and positioning of the Tower firstly. What she remembered of its security and numbers. And then there was, of course, the way one could even gain entrance into the Black Land.

As the elf pondered a strange type of fear weeded its way through his chest. One he had only come to know recently and had felt earlier all too deeply; the kind which wreaked havoc within at the prospect of _her _coming along on that quest. But Legolas hoped she would not wish to head back into Mordor, not when the half-orc went to such great strides to be free of it._ But she might demand it._ For those same blasted reasons the elf was failing to withstand, and if she did, _if_ she did, and Eru knew she was stubborn enough to make a case of it, the elf would ensure Kal was dissuaded from joining him. How that was to be achieved, he yet had no notion. But there was always a way. A sharp sway of the boat against the less than mild sea waves that night returned Legolas to the task at hand, reminding him of the need to focus. He regarded his companions and began speaking in a clear, lowered voice.

"Since their numbers are great, we must employ stealth based attacks as you know. You also know discovery and capture is not an option. Neither is intervening if one of us were to fall, as that leads to risk against which we may not be equipped to defend ourselves. And I trust you all remember what that means."

Elves, Men, and dwarf nodded. In the event of falling prisoner to the enemy, there was always the risk of torture and reveal, irrespective of the indisputable honor and valor each of them possessed. By agreement, if given the chance a swift and merciful end was preferable.

"Tadion, Orophin, Herion and Faluin go with me, and we attempt to fell as many as we can from above." He looked to Tadion, who nodded in understanding. "Gimli with Avorn, you and your men stay close to the shore to aid in the eventuality of a chase in retreat. Faluin," he turned to the golden-haired elf being addressed, "you follow close but stay behind us in case we need to alert Gimli and the others. The rest of us hunt."

"Just like an elf, to rob me of the very few pleasures left me on this dratted world!" Gimli grumbled, though Legolas knew that more than anything the complaint was meant to mellow their tightly wound spirits.

"We have the cover of darkness," the elf prince continued, "but they thrive in it. Remember, Uruk-hai are intelligent, do not underestimate their viciousness nor their cunning. We know not how they are spread across the land, or what they seek here, if anything at all." He turned to Orophin. "Tonight we use the battle signs of your people to communicate and signal our position to one another."

The boat hit the low stony bank with a dull sound that echoed through them all. The group climbed further, silent as wraiths towards the edge of land. Gimli and the humans positioned themselves along the path in various places out of sight, waiting, weapons ready. Legolas nodded to them a brisk salute before heading to join his brother and the other elves.

"Legolas," Gimli took him by the arm, "Watch yourself, lad. No heroics."

A brittle smile marked the face of his friend. "We will see each other soon," the elf said with a confidence he did not wholly feel, and with that, he and his kin were away.

As they climbed higher, shrouded by both the employ of their skill and nature itself, the elves listened for any sign revealing the presence of Mordor. They reached the upper-level ground and the sparse woods adorning the land, and it was then that they heard it. The guttural, gnarled scathing sounds of the Black Speech. The scent of decay and stale filth filled their senses. Both brothers felt the uneven, bursting rush of blood vibrating through their center, reaching to the very tips of their fingers as they readied for battle. They looked sharpened, more fey, near feral in their tense stances.

Legolas turned his head and lifted his arm pointing to the left. The one called Orophin and the two other elves, both Galadhrim warriors as he, took to that direction. They sought the sheltered heights of the trees swiftly and with flowing, inhuman grace.

He and Tadion went right, climbing and following each other through the boughs in a soundless flurry of movement.

They saw their first enemy trudging through the wood alone, cutting through the underbrush with a heavy scimitar. Its mottled brown and grey mane reached down its back, deathly yellow eyes narrowing as it lifted its head, and began to sniff at the air. It hissed words the elves did not understand. Legolas looked to Tadion as they each stood hidden strategically within trees placed at opposing distance. With lightning movements, Legolas drew an arrow and aimed.

A heavy body thundered to the ground. Legolas leaped deftly downward and retrieved his arrow, wiping it hastily against the grass before they set forward again.

Soon they found two other Uruk-hai, walking purposefully and looking about themselves. Legolas followed their movement from his crouching position atop a thick branch, his gaze catching that of Tadion from farther away. They straightened as one, retrieved an arrow, aimed, and shot at their oblivious foe. Both well-placed arrow shafts soon protruded from each fallen misshapen head, and the elves repeated the process of removing the shafts. If the bodies were to be found by their comrades, there would be fewer signs as to what, or who felled them.

Legolas traversed speedily above ground, his lean frame turning as the wind, and from the corner of his eye saw Orophin and Herion follow suit from a distance. _Things go well so far, _thought the elf as they passed like shadows in the night. From afar there was a barely audible bird-like whistle and he turned to see Orophin lifting three fingers. He replied with the same fare. _Six downed._ They would also need to dispose of the bodies when done, though that task was the simplest of all.

As the elves inspected the blackness for any change, their keen hearing caught the hissed, broken quality of a human voice. Female. Pleading. Legolas frowned, gaining in speed under the wary gaze of Tadion, who followed on his trail.

As he neared the blend of wailing and hoarse sounds, Legolas nocked a sure arrow.

A young human woman, battered and worse for wear, was struggling on her elbows in an attempt to crawl away from four Uruk-hai. Her hands and legs were bound.

"I told ya, there's no gettin' away but for our sport, ya will have to do," one Uruk was growling as it took the woman by the hair. "Now run, little birdie, and we'll be followin'. Ya get a good start too, we'll be right'ere for a while yet."

"Gorgath," one of the beasts suddenly growled, addressing another who may have been his better. "Somethin' is afoot. I smell it. Draw," and they all resorted to their scimitars.

Legolas tensed, his eyes narrowing. They were doing this for sport, but the filth did not reckon nor expect the silent watchers now arming themselves above them.

The silver-haired elf met the eyes of his brother, who nodded in response. He did not sense Orophin nor the other elf in their vicinity, probably having gone around their position to scout further. Four Uruk-hai they could contend with. Four they could risk attacking together, a feat they all agreed to never resort to for fear of discovery and entrapment. But what steeled their resolve was the memory of those fallen to this manner of debasing cruelty, and it spurred them both, and so their arrows flew simultaneously and from different directions, felling two Uruk.

Legolas swiftly hung his longbow and quiver safely aside and drew his long knife. He then descended from his position onto the ground and landed closely behind one of the still standing Uruk. The elf sliced through its back from shoulder to hip before the Uruk turned, doubling in pain, anger, and surprise. Pivoting, the elf slashed through its neck, leaping back from the spurt of black blood. He barely managed to avoid the heavy scimitar of the one known as Gorgath.

"Well, well..." the beast roared, "looks like our eyes and ears around these parts were not a lyin'," the Uruk said triumphantly. "Spindly creatures roamin' about, acting as if this were their own land. Perhaps we find where the rest of ya are hidin' like scurvy rats!" the Uruk finished with a lunge, blocked effortlessly by Legolas.

The elf looked to the canopy, where he knew Tadion waited restlessly, wanting this to end. Legolas continued to silently circle the Uruk, while the other goaded him with gruesome and disgusting detail of his future enslavement. The elf pursued the offensive just as he heard more heavy stomping come from somewhere to his right.

"I caught one," the Uruk grinned as he forcefully repelled Legolas, who turned to see four more beasts and a number of black-clad men make an appearance.

He swiftly looked to Tadion, raising his hand to stop the other hidden elf from intervening. This was too much for them to take on in a fight. If Tadion revealed his position, a chase would no doubt ensue. If there were more of them, their meager party would surely be outnumbered, killed, or worse. Myriads of thoughts went through his head, the safety of the isle chiefest among them.

He charged with more fervor than before, contending at first with two enemies, then three as yet another joined the fight. He nearly lost his stance once, twice, but felt no weariness. Determination pulsed through his veins, emerging as sparse bursts of strength the elf seldom could muster anymore, and he fell one Uruk with a vicious swipe of his mithril blade.

He could dimly hear the others snickering. The woman they had tried to save was nowhere in sight, and as the elf whirled to deal another blow he felt a sharp sting to the side of his neck. He gritted his teeth, his hand reaching to inspect the source, only to find a sharp, thin object which he hastily tore out.

"Come'ere, pleasing little elf. You've shown me nothin' worth my troubles so far!" Gorgath pounced at him with a force to rival a falling cliff and the elf barely managed to avoid the swing of his weapon, then another.

He was retreating, moving slower and blinking faster, and Legolas found his vision now swam and tilted no matter his attempts. The elf parried anew, now long on the defense, his legs tangling beneath him strangely. His hearing also appeared to be skewed for he never heard the man closing in, nor managed to avoid his strike.

Harrowing pain shot through his leg, and his body froze and convulsed as the elf fell to one knee. When he was unable to rise Legolas vaguely noted the blade had sliced through his leg. And as his eyes flitted to his surroundings, he saw more attackers were gathering.

Legolas quickly sought for Tadion, who had his bow drawn and ready, already aiming to shoot. He looked sternly into his brother's eyes, pleading, commanding and cursing him all at the same time. _Finish this and go you fool. _He knew the rules. As his second in command, he must gather the others and retreat. At least this way, the beasts found what it was they thought they were looking for.

But Tadion would not move, his entire frame shaking with wild anger and strife and sorrow. He hesitated, pleading silently in turn, his bow yet ready to release the arrow which would end a life.

Legolas gave their signal for retreat and further reached through to his younger brother in thought, again pleading, ordering, and begging. _Go. Deal the blow and go. Obey, damn you. I command you. I command- _After one flicker of time the connection with Tadion was sharply cut, hastily torn, and he could feel the presence of his brother no longer. His posture broke and the elf fell forward, propping his palms against the forest bed from the sudden, unbearable dizziness taking hold.

"Put him in shackles," the Uruk was growling, sounding far and distorted. Iron claws dug into his shoulders.

It felt as though he would retch his insides away. Betrayal gnawed at him akin to salt in a freshly dealt wound for his unheeded plea, while he saw bleak black and grey shapes; distorted mouths grinning at him.

_Come back alive._

With this last thought, the elf lost his sight and his form swayed, crashing onto the barren ground.


	32. Wherever you are

The shivering blackness beneath the harbor swirled lazily, swaying in tune with the unruly winding paths of her own mind. Waiting, Kal had come to know, was the most hideous of endeavors. Lingering, unknowing of what was unfurling on the mainland, where a sorely outnumbered group had set against an ever present foe. Where _he_ had gone, and left her behind.

_I would have no harm come to you._

The words were ceaseless in their insistence, boring within her in strange ways, painfully, longingly. The look in his eyes when he had uttered them, the feel of him so near, that was yet another trying memory in its honesty, its clarity, its _truth_.

Kal blinked at the revelation, looking to Eron who was shifting uneasily and leaning into her side. She sat on the stone edge where dark water met cliff, her knees drawn to her chest. She had retrieved the wolf from her chamber seeing as the wild animal was begun to feel restless trapped between four walls, when untamed nature was its true abode. Its intelligent blue eyes met hers, and a whimper escaped its maw as the animal rose and began pacing.

She hoped, more than she had ever dared to before, that their party would return unharmed. All of them. Admittance was a difficult task with the memory of his touch, the freshness of green woods, the sparkling lights entrapped in black skies. Kal wished, needed_,_ to feel it again. To feel _him_ again, the blasted elf who had left her behind for his own peace of mind.

"You worry," a soft voice sounded from behind her, and from the corner of her eye, Kal saw the grim figure of Arwen descending to her left in a position much similar to her own. If Kal had been less perceptive she might not have noticed the subtle, barely visible wringing of her hands. She returned her gaze to the wide natural gallery formed in the mountain which led to the outside world.

"Does this happen often?" Kal had to know.

"Such an ill turn has not come to pass for a long while," Arwen shook her head. "But they are brave, seasoned warriors to the last." Her fathomless grey eyes met those of Kal. "It is not much, but this sole thought brings me a manner of reprieve."

Her fingers curled into her palms. "I should have gone with. I know of the language, their strengths, and weaknesses, I could have been of great aid to them."

"You were, and are, yet unwell from your weakening spell. It is plain to see now, as it surely was then," Arwen maintained evenly.

_When he all but forced me to stay put, akin to some stray animal._ Kal turned her head to the side, eyes narrowing. "The things he said to me, when I awoke. That I am like you. Are they true?" Had the lady Arwen known? Had they _all_ known, apart from her?

She heard a pause before Arwen spoke. "Your essence, your soul... I sense it. All those of elven kind unavoidably do, for it bears remnants of the Secret Fire. There is no other worthy explanation, though some feel each other clearer and much deeper if..." her words trailed away, leaving the thought unfinished. "In the least, you are... partly elven." The statement had been uttered in a monotonous and factual way.

Kal hissed in displeasure. "For all the good it has done me," she muttered, stroking the fur of Eron who had wedged between them in the meanwhile. "Gratitude for your aid in getting me to my feet," she tried.

"Legolas stood by you, mostly."

The half-orc winced, and the poisoned pincers of worry dug into her with renewed strength. "I daresay, I can imagine few things worse than this damnable waiting."

The elf maid ran a slight, elegant hand through her hair. "I cannot disagree. But you ought to rest," said the healer.

"I cannot rest," Kal said sullenly. "I cannot think of anything other than this, them. _Him,_" she lowered her head in a rare display of weakness. But her time among these beings had caused the ever present adamant guard which surrounded her spirit to slowly diminish and crack, revealing the multitude of bruising emotions she was yet beginning to discern.

Arwen looked away, and Kal did not catch her weak sliver of a smile.

A sudden commotion alerted them both as the waters began to ripple and change, signaling an approaching disturbance. The wolf rose and began wailing in a way Kal had never heard before, and try though she did to calm its distress, he would not cease.

Arwen rose straight and stiff even as Kal placed her hands on the wolf's head in an attempt to reach him as taught previously by Legolas. But the anguish spanning through her hands made her draw sharply away when Eron coiled in on himself, whimpering. Her eyes fell on the sight of a fast approaching craft and its quiet inhabitants. As soon as they reached the improvised harbor area, she hastily followed each arrival as they crossed onto the dark grey stone platform.

Her feet gaining a will of their own, Kal paced swiftly after Arwen.

The dwarf, the men, Tadion, two other elves, no, there was yet another elf, and...

"Legolas?" she heard Arwen ask, looking to Gimli and Tadion.

Tadion. His face was of a sickly pallor, his green eyes haunted and sunken, his head bowed.

"Tadion," Kal barely heard Arwen repeat her question. "Where is your brother?"

"Captured," the elf uttered blankly.

Kal regarded the others, as trodden and ailing and just as miserable as he, the word failing to gain meaning.

"Captured?" Kal choked with growing unrest looking to Gimli, whose eyes were blurring with hastily wiped tears.

They all sped towards the eating hall in silence and gathered around one of the tables. Tadion began to relay the happenings to Arwen, his gaze downcast. "They somehow impaired him, for I had never seen him sway so in battle. He was wounded as a result, and their numbers were higher than even the scouts reckoned. There was no way for him to... to escape or follow, and no possibility for me to intervene without revealing there were more of us. They already suspect our presence in the area," his words were wooden but steady. "They may have spies lurking about. I did what had to be done," Tadion finished in a hollow voice.

"_What_ had to be done?" Kal suddenly spoke. "What is your meaning?" She had been surprisingly composed throughout the whole recount, a part of her still in disbelief at this turn of events. _I pleaded__ with him. __The proud, foolish_ _elf. Stubborn, foul-tempered__ fool!_

Tadion leveled her with a hard look. "What are you even doing here? It may be even that you are the cause for all of this," and the elf approached her slowly, his face gaining the usual menacing mien reserved solely for her.

"Easy, lad," Gimli slowly came between him and a now trembling, smoldering Kal. "She holds no blame."

"What have you done?" Kal still demanded, her voice shallow, her throat dried, her chest crumbling piece by piece with every word.

"I prevented him from becoming fodder to their wiles. I ended him, swiftly," Tadion croaked emptily, his eyes on no one in particular.

Kal staggered back. "You... what?" her hand went to her sword, a new, thrashing sort of fury brimming inside, causing the floor to seem molten beneath her feet and a great bloodlust pour into her center, tensing her wearied limbs. She took one step forward towards the elf who had done the unthinkable.

A hand was on her shoulder. A steadying, soothing, and peace inducing hand. Her blazing eyes drowned in grey seas. Arwen locked her in that willful gaze and despite her effort to the contrary, her anger began to dissipate. In its wake was left nothing but the burning raw hurt akin to a deeply embedded blade.

She barely felt Tadion whirl past her, his slumped form heading through one of the corridors. Kal removed herself from Arwen and strode purposefully after him, ignoring the calls of Gimli.

"You!" she hissed angrily, making a motion for Eron to stand aside. Tadion turned his head briefly but took no heed of her as he resumed his fast pacing.

Unable to see straight Kal hastened until she reached him and roughly grasped his shoulder, throwing the elf hard against the stone wall. Her fingers turned to iron around his jaw as she leaned into his face, nails digging into the pale flesh. Strangely, Tadion posed no resistance but in her stupor, Kal saw little else save the urge, the _need_ for retribution.

"Your own brother? You were there, by his side and instead of doing your utmost to _protect_ him, you... you struck him down? Where are the great and noble values of the elves you so proudly threw in my face? What of all that remains? Speak, damn you!" she shook him.

"I did what had to be done," Tadion repeated stonily, though a new fire shone in his own eyes as he began to struggle. "You know nothing of our ways or the lives we lead. Capture at the hands of your wonderful kin is worse than death. It means potential discovery of our position and endangers our struggling community. We all knew and accepted the chance of things going awry, none more than he. Now unhand me, else you will regret it," the elf growled though the merciless grip on him stood fast, now digging painfully into his arm. Bruises were forming along his jaw.

Kal thrust him harshly against the wall. "You so hold yourself above me, but know this: I would rather have perished myself before leaving him to fend on his own. I would have done all that I could to ensure he had a chance at freedom, even to the point of falling into their hands. But you! His own kin... _you_ are the monster, not I!" she cried wanting to claw his eyes out, the infuriating stream warm upon her face.

The elf shifted with inhuman speed. With a well placed strike to her middle, Kal was reminded of elven agility as Tadion freed himself of her vice hold. He took Kal by her hair unheeding of the harsh guttural sounds a confused but seething Eron was making. Tadion thrust her legs from under her and Kal crashed to the ground just as he was upon her, his hand clenching viciously around her throat, against her windpipe. Breathing was a chore with his knee now pressing against her ribs. "Heed me and hear me well," the elf spewed, shivering in pain and anger. "You have no place here. You will begone come the morrow. If not _I_ will ensure that you are."

They both struggled against each other like so for a while, strength depleting and bodies hurting. Then, to her astonishment Tadion loosened his grip, breathing deeply only to fall beside her as a panting, tired heap.

The irksome wetness would not cease its torment while inside Kal was striving to keep the weakening anger at bay. A haunting wail reverberated off the stone walls, and only late did she realize it had come from her. Kal barely felt the wolf nearing her, its maw soft against her face.

They knew not how much time had passed this way. The floor was cold, but she barely felt it. Kal turned helplessly on her side as her shoulders shook, her knees brought to her chest. Death, life, and all that was lost to her mingled and thrashed achingly, seeping through her innermost recesses of thought, body and spirit. She even lost sight of Tadion, yet splayed and silent as a grave beside her, staring towards the ceiling with glassy orbs.

She closed her eyes tiredly...

... only to sharply open them again.

"Spirit..." she uttered aloud. _Your essence, your soul, I sense it. All those of elven kind unavoidably do._.. _some more than others..._

She thought of him. She thought of him deeper and truer than she ever had before. His initial hatred of her. His touch, his woody scent. That cold demeanor. His reserved but honest friendship. His hand, rough fingers intertwining with hers. Why was it that just as they had reached common ground and understanding, he was being snatched away from her in such a way? Why was it, that she wished it had been her instead? Kal pressed her eyes tightly shut against the renewed torrent. Her thought flew to a heartbeat beneath her fingers, the steady stream of life pouring into her in ways that left her lightheaded and wanting. When they had been together sharing, before her loss of mind Kal felt a shiver taking the form of an admission. Endless, reaching for her; a warm, brave light though hesitating and meek in its search, but present. She had felt _him._

Kal blinked and rose sharply propped on her arms, feeling it all soar with imbued clarity. That same presence, the warmth of him. A beacon lost in shadow but struggling and seeking her.

"He lives," she whispered turning to look upon the tormented face of Tadion. She grasped the elf by his tunic and lifted his face to hers. "He lives," her eyes were wide and wild. "You said you ended him," she whispered.

"I could not," the elf admitted, not meeting her gaze. "I could not do what he asked of me." And now he appeared so much older and defeated, a galling shift from before. Tadion lowered his head. "He is... he is my kin."

She raked a shaky breath, roughly releasing him.

Hope. It brimmed, burned. It surged through with bewildering swiftness.

There was no time, _she_ had no time to spare. Kal rose and stormed past an approaching Arwen, towards the harbor.

She had little to no knowledge of how to man a boat across water. She had no knowledge of which way to go. But she would get there, somehow. She had light, _his_ own, to guide after, and it had not yet faded.

When Kal neared the harbor she knelt and took the wolf's head in her hands. "I will return, you have my word. With him." And she took forward, her eyes trailing over the boats, frantically pondering which one she should use.

"If you are to kill yourself, you might as well get there first," someone said gratingly from behind her, and Kal tensed as her gaze swept over Tadion. The marks her fingers had left were dark shades upon his fair face. He bore his weapons and was storming towards her.

Kal crossed her arms over her chest, brow furrowing when the elf walked past her and straight to one of the boats.

"About time you two showed up," Gimli said then, startling them both as he rose from his seated position at the far edge of the stone platform. "If folly is to be had, yours truly will not be denied his pleasure. May as well face it," he said into the glare of Tadion, longingly feeling the head of his battle axe, "I am coming with."

Arwen watched them from the entrance to the harbor hall, and only once they were all in position did she approach. None appeared astonished by her presence. "I will be waiting." She then swiftly recounted the basic field care needed for an injury such as that which Tadion described, and how best to handle the wound and its bearer.

Kal looked to the silent elf as he took the oars and began to row. She turned her thought inward._ I will find you._ _Wherever you are__._ It was not much by way of certainty, but it kept her adrift.


	33. The choices we make

The three figures were silent as they traversed the winding path leading to the mainland. Kal sat behind Tadion and close to the dwarf, her searching eyes discerning nothing but gloom.

"Why did you choose to come?" she ventured to ask Tadion in the end, the silence altogether bearing too heavily on her shoulders.

For a while, Kal heard nothing and was begun to think he would not speak at all.

"He is my brother and my last surviving kin. Impregnable and reckless though he may be, and changed to the point of being unrecognizable. He is also the most infuriating person I know - aside from you of course," the elf added wryly. "But he _is_ my brother. And I owe him my life."

Kal had never thought she would feel any amount of consideration for this elf. It was intriguing how quickly one's regard for someone could change.

"Will you take us to where last you saw of him?" she asked, emboldened by this different rapport.

"Precisely. There is where we may, carefully and silently," he said pointedly looking to Gimli, "begin our tracking. I keep to the trees," he then said. "I will be your cover."

And the three companions continued to share their approach and tactical detail, as well as responsibilities. They were still unsure how to handle the situation of the wound since surely a limping elf was not easy to conceal, and much depended on his condition when they found him. If they found him.

They passed into the woods before daybreak and followed Tadion towards the place of his brother's stand.

As they reached the very spot revealed to them by the elf, her thoughts flew to Legolas in an attempt to renew the intricate pattern of thought that allowed her to feel his presence. It yielded no results, and morosely her eyes flitted over the space and forest bed under the predawn light. She beheld the familiar dark stain of spilled blood. Red as well as black adorned the trampled blades of yellowed green. No bodies. Kal heaved a deep sigh, frowning as she looked ahead.

"This way," Tadion whispered after kneeling to inspect signs of passing disturbance left on the land. They followed, Kal closely in her light step while Gimli the dwarf had stayed some distance behind, stopping at times to listen and crouch with his bulkier form amid the partial safety of thicket and undergrowth.

"Do you think they went far?" Kal ventured to ask, looking to the terse profile of yet another elf become unlikely collaborator. It bore ironic ties to an all too similar past.

"I do not know, I cannot reach him. I doubt he wishes to be found. Especially not now, and not by me," Tadion finished bitterly.

"I am relieved you did not grant his request," Kal decided to say and though loath to give Tadion any due, gratitude did flare within her for his deed. Or lack thereof. "And grateful," Kal braved, feeling his eyes on her.

Tadion snorted at her words as they fell in step with one another, each careful of any sound or movement to herald approaching peril. "I also praise that particular inability. But first, we must find him. And if we do, I suspect we may need to ensure he does not end us himself before anything else."

Kal flashed a swift, crooked smile revealing her fangs to the frowning gaze of Tadion.

"Nienna's tears, I will never understand him," Tadion muttered to himself as he set his vision ahead and moved forward, darting up the closest tree.

Silence returned between them as they pursued each other, one above and one below, and despite not encountering any foes nor any presence for a while yet, they pressed on.

_Where are you? _she called to him, using the memory of his touch and the strong stir it caused to fuel her desperate reach. _I should like to see you again. I should like you to live._

It came first as a whisper, growing into a shiver, become a great unseen pull that Kal recognized in tune with the weaving of her own life. The elf was yet on the shores of this world, she felt it; that silver light, unexpected and warm, warily reaching in between her ribs, to the center.

Kal sought upwards for Tadion. When their eyes locked he stared into hers strangely then looked away, his face contorting as if in grim proof of some hidden knowledge Kal did not perceive. When he looked back at her Kal raised an arm, pointing westward. That was the way. It had to be.

* * *

The nethers were disarmingly strong in their grip. It was peculiar how one could breathe without breathing, see without seeing and hurt both inside and out. Then there were whispers and harsh speech, light and dark communing to veil his fevered gaze in shadow.

He saw striking eyes that were his own, boring into him. Bright, demanding, and no less proud. His brow was laden with his crown, his posture tall in towering determination. He said nothing but silently looked to the other. On his arm was one slighter, watching him with boundless adoration. Her green stare showed courage and endurance, though Legolas felt none of it for himself at this time.

"You are not of this world...," he blinked, or thought he did. "Apparition..." he finished weakly, feeling no less empty when the vision deformed and receded into shadows. Ones which grew, ebbed and flowed akin to a dark river drowning him, and then before him was one other.

Her hair billowed down her shoulders, unbound, shielding her. She was come from the riverbank, swaying and free in her nakedness. He felt the warmth of a hand on his face.

"You should have let me come," dark lips spoke, and though he longed to see, to believe it was real, the elf cursed whatever sickened part of his mind was conjuring these delusions.

"No," he told the shadow either way, "I should have been less of a craven. I should have... been honest with myself." And under the burden of his regret he would have reached for her then, but for the impending certainty that this was nothing save a temporary ailment, born of guilt and need.

As sounds around him became louder and more grating, the feel in his nerves and his sense also gradually returned with enhanced swiftness. Her image disappeared, and as his eyes cleared the nethers took form again, this time taking the shape of a grinning, grey head.

The elf swiftly surmised he was hanging upside down once he felt the trying pressure in his temples, his ears. And indeed as he regained gradual awareness of his limbs, along with the searing pain in his leg Legolas felt a thick rope fastened tightly around his ankles. His hands were similarly bound together at his back.

As soon as he could see clearly a wave of sharp pain erupted from the left side of his face, causing his immensely skewed vision to turn formless again.

"He awakens, the tree tosser," said the beast who had struck him, looking to another who stood by, witnessing the display.

That one was human by all accounts, dressed in brown and black leathers, with a heavy whip coiled at his hip, and a black eye patch strung across the left side of his face.

"Beautiful specimen," the human drawled in Westron, long fingers taking the dazed elf by the nape as he hung helplessly in his bonds.

Legolas shuddered at the foreign and detestable touch, drawing away with a snarl in as much as his position allowed.

"We might sell'em to ya, usually we're to send such findings straight to the Tower but yer lucky your business flourishes," the Uruk spit at the man's feet, who served no reaction save for a raised eyebrow and a disgusted crinkle of his nose.

His manner stayed cold and steadied. "I should think the numbers I provided will aid you and your regimen in finding some manner of... entertainment," the man spoke, appraising the silken hair of the murderous elf between his fingers. "And for me, this is a great bartering boon. My clients always appreciate such... exotic freshness," he grinned in a way that made Legolas burn to cut him in half.

The elf struggled anew, hating himself for not dying and maddened at Tadion for not having done his duty. But then again, did he ever think his end would be much different from this? He could barely recall a time he thought otherwise. A time when a mother's green stare warmed two siblings enjoying each other's company in mischief. Days afore time, when his bond brother was yet the hopeful light of his people, and they were ever strong together.

Legolas shook his head though that led to another bout of nausea, and again he felt the same array of sensations as before his fall. His neck ached and a soreness spread from one side down his spine. They had afflicted him with some manner of poison. He recalled its numbing effects, the way they brought a sluggishness of movement he had not foreseen.

"That sleeper rubbish ya stung him with sure softened him proper. Ya should've heard the nonsense he was mumblin' earlier," the Uruk was saying. "Aye, we sell' em to ya," the beast repeated, eyeing Legolas with a hungry snarl. "But first we see if he tells us of his goals and whether anyone comes lookin' for him." The Uruk turned his milky gaze towards the black-haired slave trader. "Weed out the rats, y'see."

"I do see," said the caped man with the whip, his gaze boring into the hateful one of Legolas. "I am patient, as you well know Gorgath."

"We'll try not to ruffle him too much for ya. But I promise nothin'," Gorgath growled.

The two plotters then disappeared from his sight, and Legolas discerned it must have been early dawn going by the shade of lighting through the trees.

His mind and body were mostly his own again but still felt rather dulled and weary. The pain in his leg wound pulsed with constant agony, flaring with the addition of the heavy bonds around his ankles and the weight pulling him downward.

The pressure in his head became unbearable, and the elf found he only stirred again when a rough fall, his own, caused his eyes to fly open and the stinging pain to remind him mercilessly of his injury. His unceremonious fall was met with gurgles of growls and curses, and his eyes refocused on the frightened rictus of a lifeless face.

The woman, the one he and Tadion had wished to spare from the pack, now lay spread across from him; her throat slit so deep from ear to ear she was nearly beheaded.

"Not fast enough," an Uruk whispered ominously somewhere to his left.

Legolas gritted his teeth when he felt a heavy hand in his hair, pulling him roughly upward and forcing him into a seated position.

They questioned and beat him, but he told them nothing, his thought ever turned to those times witnessed during the throes of his delirium. They threatened him with death, and when that did nothing they threatened him with slavery.

"Aye, plenty of those higher placed bastards be lookin' to sink their teeth into some unspoiled elf flesh," they were saying. "Spill yer guts and we might end you before that happens."

Disgusted, Legolas still held firm, refusing to speak or heed them, no matter their strikes. It was a painful reminder of the first time he had fallen to their hands. Where a young creature unwittingly aided his escape.

_Kal... _he wondered where she was, hoped she would remain hidden in the safety of the isle. Now, when nothing else mattered, he could admit it. He could consider the truth that while he did wish for her to discover more of herself, his main intent had been for her to find a livable life there, community; and to see another way of existence. He had wanted her to stay. _He_ had selfishly wished to know she was close, safe. And _he_ had selfishly withheld that knowledge from her, against his own words at one time.

His heart thundered wildly and the elf awoke with a start from his pain induced stupor. His brow was bloodied, his cheek gashed from their torment earlier that day. He was strung upside down again. It was late afternoon when Legolas searched the surrounding trees, thinking he had sensed a presence. He sighed and attributed it all to the conjuring of his wearied mind.

Time passed and as night fell over the world the elf struggled again, his eyes on the sentries set on guard. They were large, bulkier specimens of Uruk-hai than he had previously encountered. Then a surge of light filled him to the brim. The elf had little time to acknowledge whose it was before one of the guards crashed to the ground, an arrow embedded in its skull. Then a shadow swiftly pounced on the other with the flash of a blade, and the second guard was felled.

Amber eyes bore into his. "Legolas, can you hear me?"

He blinked. This could not be. "You are... not here..."

Kal worriedly looked him over, hand reaching around his neck. "Oh, believe me, elf, I am here well enough," she whispered swiftly. "We have little to no time, quickly."

And with that, he felt a tug at the end of the rope, and himself falling roughly to the ground. He barely bit back a whimper of pain at the throbbing mess which was his leg. He rose unsteadily on his arms.

"Can you... can you walk at all?" she was asking, crouching down before him.

Legolas reached for a fistful of her tunic. "What are you doing here? Are you insane?" but his hands shook, and anger was hard to come by.

"Please, elf, you may scowl and admonish me after. Swiftly now," Kal whispered, her nerves on edge as they all felt the nearness of other foes. She saw him come to his knees, gritting his teeth with the effort.

Before him, another dropped from the treetops then, and with increased misery and ire Legolas stared into the eyes of his brother. The same green stare of his memories, from so long ago.

"Have you lost your wits?" he hissed at them both. "This is more perilous than you think," he rasped. "Slavers... you must head back, now," Legolas insisted as he tried to rise, one palm propped against the tree he had been hanging from.

"Nobody is heading anywhere without you," Kal whispered willfully. "Not again," and her gaze bore meaningfully into his, staying his remark.

Tadion rushed to his aid but his brother impatiently pulled away, managing to rise with the support of the trunk and resting his weight on one leg.

Both Kal and Tadion hurried and held him on each side, and they advanced unseen amid the trees. Their progress was slow though the wounded elf harnessed all the strength he had left to move swiftly. If they had been foolish enough to come, Legolas thought he might as well do his utmost, since they all shared in the same peril now. But his fury, disappointment and helplessness meshed together, and were mostly directed at himself.

They ceased when they reached Gimli. "I could not have left them to fend on their own," the dwarf offered in understanding, sensing what plagued the other.

Legolas merely nodded as Tadion steadily helped him down. Gimli then produced two flat wooden splints and a piece of cloth from a satchel. Kal knelt and proceeded to wrap his leg while Tadion and the dwarf stood watch.

"Hurry, orcling," Tadion murmured. "I sense an approach."

Her hands were shaking, having never done such a thing before. She took the splints and looked at Legolas. It lasted for no more than a flicker of time, but what Kal saw in his eyes made her swallow the thickness in her throat, and caused her heart to flip. Worry, care, regret... need, anger, worry.

"Reckless," was all Legolas said to her, his chest rising and falling raggedly with the effort.

"Maybe so," Kal broke their gaze and looked back to her hands, before proceeding to wrap his leg with a deftness she never suspected of herself. "But I made my choice."

"Why."

"You know why," Kal hissed without thought as she worked. "There," she said when done, unable to meet his stare.

Tadion rushed to aid them and soon they were on their way again, each supporting the injured elf on either side.

Their small group made little progress before both Kal and Tadion stilled in dread. A known stench assailed her senses.

"Look what we have 'ere," the approaching Uruk grinned. There were two of them. "A rescue party!" they brandished their scimitars.

Kal looked to Tadion, who nodded. She removed herself from Legolas and unsheathed her sword. She breathed in, gripped her weapon and lunged at them as they grinned, avoiding their swipes with the fast-footed grace of elves, swinging her sword with all the strength long years of training had honed.

"Stand still!" one snarled even as Kal jumped and tilted way above his head, hands briefly resting on his shoulders.

She landed behind him and swung. The Uruk fell with a curse become wordless groan. Kal whirled to witness how Gimli had made a good deed of the other Uruk, the wide metal axe blade still sheathed deeply into its skull.

"Finally, some merriment," the dwarf grumbled before retrieving his weapon, and they set off again.

They were closer to the edge, but yet far away from the path to the shore, slowed by the injured state of Legolas, though he pushed forward as far as his remaining strength allowed.

They came to an area where trees were sparser, and as Kal hurried an arrow hissed to her left. She turned her head, only to see three Uruk approach. One of them was bearing a bow, aiming anew. Another arrow, then another.

"Get down!" she cried, pulling Legolas after so he fell to the ground, and their eyes sought for any possible shelter.

"I say your brother goes on with you, Legolas, while the dwarf and I face them." Kal looked to Tadion-

Her breath caught.

His bloodied hand was over his side, where a widening red pattern surrounded a protruding black arrow shaft. Crimson liquid bled between his fingers.

"Tadion!" Legolas rose frantically to reach his brother.

"No," Tadion shook his head, "I am good to move, come, rise," he urged, and both elves tried advancing with the cover of Kal and Gimli, who turned to face the approaching Uruk-hai.

"More goods to trade," one of them growled in the Black Speech.

Kal ground her teeth. They have come this far. They were so close. She focused her entire strength and agility into her sword, the weapon once wielded by noble hands. The strong, fearless man of Gondor who dared live on his own terms. She thought of him, of them, and freedom.

They proved a good fighting pair, the dwarf and the half-orc. They made swift work of their enemies albeit with some added risk which earned Kal a gash to her upper arm, but they were soon following after the brothers.

Kal took her place to the right side of Legolas, bringing his arm around her neck to aid his advance.

Descending to the shore proved more difficult but there was thankfully no more intrusion from the Uruk and none seemed to be on their trail. Either they had dispersed or there had been fewer of them since the previous night. But Kal was not about to question this gift, and soon they were heading towards the carefully hidden moored boat.

It was then that Tadion fell on his arms and knees, causing Legolas to crash to the ground along with him. Kal darted to aid the speared elf while Gimli aided his brother to rise.

"Come now, we have a little way yet," Kal said to a slow and weakening Tadion, urging him into the boat. His side was blackened with blood and the elf slumped inside unable to rise or speak, his eyes bleary and unfocused as he lay on his other side, the arrow shaft yet lodged into the wound.

Legolas crawled into the boat with considerable difficulty, aided by Kal and Gimli. The dwarf threw Kal a heavy look before he took the oars and the craft began swaying on water.

Legolas looked his brother over with increasing dismay, his hands trembling as they brushed wet strands of hair from his dampening features.

Kal saw how Tadion tried to speak but nothing came of it. His brother leaned in close, whispering words foreign to her ears.

"Legolas..." she tried, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say at all. It was promptly and sharply shirked away.

"You should have left me to them," he spoke dismissively though his voice came thick, his forehead resting against the still arm of his brother. "You should not have come."


	34. For you

Light from the flames of many torches brushed over a silent chamber. They licked at worn and wearied faces of ones sitting by a pallet, where a form lay still, bandaged and covered in roughly spun cloth. The air was heavily scented with medicinal herbs used for compresses.

Legolas looked to where his brother lay, a pale specter with closed, sunken eyes. He sat upright on a pallet of his own near that of the sleeping elf.

"The arrow was not poisoned, but recovery, as you know, will take more time," Arwen was saying, on her knees on Tadion's other side.

Legolas regarded the wound, wrapped cleanly around in white cloth. They had hurried upon their arrival to call Arwen and others in aid of the injured members of their party, and Arwen with other women apprentices swiftly took to nurse the gravely wounded elf. It had been a tenuous operation due to much blood loss, but possibly owed to the strong bodies elves possessed he had survived the invasive procedure. His brother had spent the entire time at the head of the cold table where Arwen worked, his own leg pending treatment until after his brother was tended to. And now, a day later, he was still here.

"You saved my life," he sighed looking to a depleted Arwen, his gaze returning to Tadion.

The elf maid regarded her hands. "I have little of my father's healing prowess, but I did what I could for him." She fell silent for a while. "But it was not I who saved _you_," she spoke.

Legolas pressed his palms to his weary eyes, straightening his tense back. "Foolish attempts."

"Of ones who care for you," Arwen returned. "It was not in vain. And, as selfish as it makes me, I am glad. I could... I could not bear the thought of losing the last brothers I had left," her lip quivered, but she forced a smile.

Legolas said nothing, reaching for Tadion's wrist to feel his pulse.

"Have you spoken since?"

"No."

"She fought for you-"

"She fought without thinking," he said tiredly. "And now others bear the consequences," the elf gripped the wrist of his brother tighter, where a steady heartbeat held his fear of loss at bay.

Arwen lowered her head, brought her dark braid over her shoulder. "It was his own choice, Legolas," she hedged.

That much was true. But if she had stayed, if they had both obeyed as they were supposed to, then...

Then he would be gone. He shifted and regarded Arwen with a blank stare.

"Dear friend, barring any unforeseen complications, his condition will change for the better," she assured, watching him closely.

"I know. It is hard for me to leave him," Legolas said absently.

"And it may be difficult to relinquish blame-"

"Arwen," he propped his forehead against his knees, now come drawn to his chest. "I do not lay the blame of this on her."

The elf maid used a dampened cloth to wipe the ashen face of Tadion. "You never say things you do not mean," she added softly.

A barely felt stir made Legolas lift his head. He saw flickers of life, heard a weak groan, and the memory of green lit forests opened to the world.

"Brother," Legolas leaned in closer as Tadion focused his ailing features on his kin.

"You..." Tadion rasped, and to their disbelief, his bruised lips formed the shadow of a smile. "... are such a bother... away with you," he managed before coughing and grimacing with the pain.

Legolas frowned, but the strong relief surging through him became tangible, his body releasing of its tight wound tension.

"...go, rest, please," Tadion croaked. Then his eyes closed and he slipped away again.

"I think you ought to heed your kin," Arwen offered with a weak smile of her own.

"Good to know he is still himself," Legolas muttered though his gaze lost of the heavy burden of worry marring his face. He rose stiffly, taking the wooden staff provided to aid his limping advance.

"Gimli?" he asked Arwen, the events of the past days a whirl. All he had seen was Tadion; attempting to reach him through their brotherly bond, to hold him to this world, to him.

"He headed to the forge from here."

The elf nodded. "And-"

"She left as well, with the wolf, outside. I know not where."

Legolas had not seen Kal either, though the elf knew she had been near him through the whole waiting ordeal. Yet he could not look her way, could not bear the memory of her deed, her utter disregard for his wishes, nor her words at that time.

_You know why._

With newfound determination, the elf leaned close to his brother and kissed his brow, whispering words of reassurance.

"I will return in a while," he told Arwen, and with that slowly left the chamber.

He followed to the outside world, his advance impeded by the yet jarring pain in his leg. He would find her, and needed little to do so with the ever present tug leading him forward. He was astonished to see it was late afternoon, having completely lost track of the time. And his assumption had been correct. As Legolas followed the path he had shown her before, the elf soon descended the terrain and sure enough, she was there. Kal was staring out to the sea, standing onto the same familiar strip of shore. Eron was padding to and fro, splashing water and wet sand as she watched.

Legolas advanced until he stood some ways from her, knowing the half-orc had heard him by then. Silence.

"Were you injured?" the elf asked after some time.

Kal shook her head. "Nothing but a gash to my arm. A nuisance."

More silence.

"My brother will recover," Legolas said then, truly relieved, and eager to share it. Not as much for his own peace, as for hers.

He heard the cracking of her fingers as Kal wrung them. "I knew she would save him in the end. She toiled hard. You were there. His fire burns too bright to fade."

"I did not share this... hopeful outlook," the elf said darkly, gaze briefly flitting to her profile, staying a sudden, desperate need to have her closer.

"You rarely ever do," Kal replied without bite.

"You both disregarded my wishes, over and above," he retorted. "Your well-meant intrusion placed others in the midst of peril. The cost might have been too high, Kal. Do you see this? Do you have the presence of mind to acknowledge it? Please, tell me that you do."

"I do," Kal replied shortly.

"But," he went on, "I know I have been less than amenable to you since, and for that I... I ask your forgiveness. I am," he sighed wearily, "grateful for what you tried to do, for my brother and I," the elf finished blankly. "As blatantly mutinous and disregarding of your own safety as it was," he snapped. And now here they were. With the brother he could not fathom losing just barely drawn from the clutches of oblivion, because of him_._ With Aragorn somewhere, possibly, painfully uncertainly, alive at the mercy of their enemy. With looming peril ever before them. With _her_, so near he could barely stand it. With a life yielding little place for wants and needs beyond those of safety and hiding. No, this was not a time for things such as those that now threatened to break through his carefully crafted walls. And what did he even wish for?

What _did_ he wish for?

_I should have been less of a craven, _the hopeless thought from captivity struck, unrelenting and insistent. Then a heaviness, tipping slowly over a steep edge, crumbling within him.

He let the wooden staff drop at his feet. His vision strayed to a yet silent Kal, staring out to the sea looking rather dejected, and smothered hurt was rife on her countenance.

Feeling his eyes on her, Kal turned her head and met his stare evenly.

"You knew there was little chance of success." Legolas faced her, taking a step forward. "And you pursued anyway."

"I did it for _you!_ " Kal stressed hotly, though the moment the words left her mouth her courage failed, and she was struggling with a thickness clogging her throat, her chest. She blinked in disbelief that she had actually spoken such. "And would do so again." At least, this was honesty.

She looked to the white foam at her feet, at how it swished around her boots, sunken into the sand. There were many pale shells scattered along the ground. She huffed, shaking her head. "And do you think I could have done any different?" Hesitation stilted her, but she pressed on. "You aided _me__,_ did you not? In so many ways. Leaving the past behind, attempting another future. Now, I know of values and feelings previously foreign to me, and I saw how bleak of an existence I had led. I can never return to the being I once was."

Was it disappointment? Surprise, that she saw? No, surely not that. It was always such a task to guess, with him. Kal felt him, more aware than she could say, more present and somehow, somewhere, thrashing not unlike the restless waves in the far distance. Why?

"Your... your friendship means much to me, you blasted elf," Kal continued, and despite her mind cautioning a retreat, she added, "As do you."

He broke their gaze to look beyond the roiling sea, appearing rather void of emotion.

A deep sting of misery rankled as she now studied his cold profile, this reaction somehow reminiscent of a strike to the face.

"How much?" Legolas asked suddenly, looking her way again.

The question had been uttered strangely, sounding close to demanding, hurried. His manner also changed in an instant, feral in a way she was not accustomed to, and had never seen on him. But there lay no threat there. It... attuned to her, completely. Kal absently watched his hair, its usual shine marred by dirt here and there, straying in the breeze as silver bled into the grey air of twilight; coiling around his neck, his shoulders, lifting with the wind.

"_How_ much?" the elf repeated, coming closer until they faced each other. The same tone - rushed, expectant.

Even like this, wounded and limping, he still awoke in her the craven urge to step back. Kal wavered, that damnable beat choosing to renew its assault, now of all times. "Enough to... recklessly throw myself into endeavors with high chances of... of demise, to retrieve you," Kal echoed his words from earlier, and following the silver flickers dancing in his eyes she barely felt him closer still, reaching for her. Her blood began a furious, flushing race through her veins. The pain from her wound felt oddly numbed. Then came the pressure of strong hands trailing up her arms, careful of her injury.

"And is it enough, to make you think of me more often than you can spare? To fret over my whereabouts when I am merely out of sight?"

Two long fingers tipped her chin upward. She knew that fresh scent, a reminder.

"To leave you yearning, to drive you to question this world and your own mind, your barest of principles? To feel infuriatingly incomplete?" His words were soft but swift, like escapees from a long drawn confinement.

She swallowed against the pounding in her ears. By now Kal knew this elf well enough to glean the meaning of his words, but to admit to it all so suddenly and openly, that she never thought to see. And she was drawn to him in ways never felt before, assailed and tensing with his nearness, and all Kal wanted was to lean further into him.

And reluctantly, deliberately, she did, feeling a near painful flare in her belly.

"Is it, Kal?" he asked as she slowly wound one arm around his neck, the side of her face come resting against him.

When she would not meet his stare Legolas spoke her name again, laced with a gentleness that shattered her knees. "Kal." Nothing. "Will you look at me?"

She did, warily. There was a deep dark bruise marring his right cheekbone and a thin, ragged cut to his temple. He was alive. "I know not _what_ this is," Kal tried, cursing the waver in her voice. She felt the cool breeze winding around them, before abandoning them for the heavy, grey skies.

"While in the Uruks' grasp," he began on a sigh, "Certain I would meet my end at the time, I thought of many things: of my life in its entirety, with all its joy and difficulties, and in a way I would have welcomed a respite from it all."

She pressed her eyes shut, his words hurting on a visceral level. "How can you-..." Kal mumbled.

"...but," Legolas continued, "As I kept trying to come to terms with this, do you know what frayed thread kept me struggling? What stubborn, intrusive, unrelenting thought prevented me from yielding?"

"Elf-" her breath caught when he cupped her face with his palm. His touch felt strange, new. Yes, he was alive.

"_You__._ I thought of you," he brought her closer. "And how I had not been honest enough with myself, with either of us." He paused then. The greys in his eyes were deeper, darker. "And, I know, there are tall walls between you and I. Our very origins, our early years, the manner of our lives so far." He shook his head in a bitter smile. "I have walked these lands for so long, I thought I had lived through it all. The world, its loss... my loss. The division was clear, the side long chosen. Until you," he frowned, as though wary of his own words. "One of twilight, who, somehow, released me from prejudice I took for truth."

Kal felt a strange shiver in her bones, from the chill wind or the way his words feathered over her skin, she could not tell. Fresh... he was always so fresh, like cold, rushing river waters. She held him a little tighter, following the unseen need at a level beyond her known reality.

"You..." Kal croaked rather weakly, feeling his hands on her shoulders, sliding to her neck, lingering where her life leapt beneath his fingers.

"Tell me," his words were strangled and warm, fleeting at one corner of her lips. His eyes closed.

Kal was suddenly too aware of how tense he was, how near. There was the unknown, something of himself, enveloping her, lulling her into a sense of safety, protection and-...

The heat of his palms dazed her. Kal felt his harsh fingers trembling on her skin, his thumbs following the lines of her jaw. Her mouth parted and a small, rather pathetic sound escaped her but there came no words, none at all. Kal struggled to try again just as he leaned closer, and she felt a slight, burning tug on her lower lip.

She stilled at the pressure and sharp flicker deep inside, drawing away, the act and heat so sudden and unexpected. He had opened his eyes and was watching her, unmoving, unwavering. Another gust of wind threaded through his hair, sending light strands flying. His eyes were of a vivid, molten hue, alight from within.

Whatever it was, she wanted, needed to feel more. Without thinking too deeply Kal raised her chin, seeing the light crease forming between his eyebrows, and the brief uncertainty in his gaze. But there was something else. Driven by that same pull she would not, could not deny any longer, she tilted her head, and closing her eyes slowly mirrored him; she sighed in surprised elation at the taste, even better and sweeter now she had more. When her upper lip came trapped between his she withdrew again, needing to see him. Her eyes strayed to the light set of his mouth.

"Again," he said softly and rather hoarsely, his long lashes fluttering closed, shadows on his pale cheek.

Heart beating angrily, Kal obliged with the eagerness of a rapt and impassioned apprentice. His lips were unexpectedly soft, she found, distractingly so as he allowed her to seek him, patiently following. And the demand for him became urgent, maddening, stirring her in ways she was only beginning to acknowledge. The rise and fall of her chest struggling and smothered against him brought a conflicting array of sensations to the surface, akin to scalding waters bursting from under a coat of unbreakable ice. Unbelievably good. Unbelievably incomplete.

Kal mewled without thought when he led her deeper, opening for him, for this was new as well but so filling, so pleasant; slick heat coiled and tightened in her belly, and the shift and growing frenzy she sensed about him unhinged her own. Meaning broke and shattered as dark waters colliding with ragged cliffs. All and any fears and confusion, the unforgiving sensations and states of mind in his presence. The uncertainty of his self-imposed mission. Her worry. Her hands, hungry for him. His face, his skin, she needed to feel all of him and the sear of those lips everywhere, yielding to the war cry behind his ribs; seeking for more, deeper. It was all she heard, all that mattered. Kal grasped his hair, her fingers selfish and firm and he would not relent his possessive grip either, bringing her ever more into him. She clutched at him eagerly and tasted all she could-

A sharp hiss woke her and she drew away, worry taking hold. Her eyes widened at the sight of the thin sliver of red, trailing from the corner of his lip.

"No biting," Legolas said, breathless, watching her hungrily, his thumb sleeking over one of her fangs.

Kal saw she had gone too far and on impulse gently licked the thin crimson ribbon, trailing back to his mouth, suckling on his lower lip. She resolved to show more care but then he took the lead again, and the world faded away into nothingness.

She knew of the deadly strength he harnessed. She remembered quite well the bruises his fingers had once left. The full, careless brunt of his force when the elf had beaten her to the ground, his gaze cold in the face of her defeat.

This was different. His roughened hands felt silken and fine, roaming with a surety that was draining her; as if moving with care for fear of breaking her, his fingers fluid along her back, reaching through her hair, bringing her closer, closer, closer...

The winds had grown stronger, and thunder rolled heavily, ignored by ones too lost in each other to heed it. Powerful gusts lashed at their figures yet none felt the chill, holding to one another even as the sea itself grew louder, and rain fell in a heavy pour over the world.

"Legolas...-," Kal briefly tore away, finding they were slowly but surely being soaked by the sudden torrent.

"I know," he smiled, releasing her.

Kal went to retrieve the fallen staff and soon they were hurrying together from under turbulent skies, seeking shelter farther away from the seaside until they reached a copse of trees on higher level terrain. Eron noticed them and followed closely behind, though the wolf seemed to not mind the downpour as much. His paws left deep, lonesome marks in the sand, leading away from the shore.

Legolas leaned with his back against the trunk of one tree they chose as their retreat. They both glanced upward to the swaying boughs and falling leaves, then at each other.

With sweeping grace the elf brought her close again and Kal watched him, so youthful, so brimming with life. So much had gone and crumbled, and here he stood. She reached and tucked a shivering strand of silver behind his ear, her smile wider when he closed his eyes and grinned.

They listened to the murmurs of the rain for a time, attuned to its mingling with both the wild sea and their own inner rhythm.

"Now you know how much," Kal spoke into the silence, her eyes on the storm. Her voice was breathless and soft. Not hers. A blended stream of unrest and longing raced within her. For him. It was all for him.

"Now, we both do," came the words before Kal felt warm fingers tilt her chin to him, and she was lost again.


	35. After the storm

The downpour had ceased, leaving them drenched but content. Kal watched the blackness of the night settled before her eyes, feeling so very alive with the whispers drifting on the waves. So very aware of it all, from the earth beneath her, to the skies overhead, to the tree of their retreat; to the novel feeling of belonging, sprawled and cradled as she was against him. They had descended near the thick trunk of the tree together, and now Kal rose and fell with his chest. She pressed her face to his neck. "What now?" she broke the silence, lifting her head to look at him.

"Now..." Legolas watched her intently for a time, as if measuring his words.

She felt his hand along her side, reaching from her thigh to her hip and finally resting around her waist. She swallowed as he brought her even closer.

"Will you stay?"

There was nothing but sincerity in those three words, and they rang in her ears just as the depths of his eyes turned and twisted whatever thoughts mangled inside her head. "...here, on the isle? With you...?" Kal asked, her hand raised in curiosity, her finger trailing over his sharp cheekbone.

The greys in his eyes seemed to swirl. "_For_ me," he said, removing her hand from his face; his fingers weaved with hers.

This was foolish, absurd. She rose and curled into his lap, pleased to be swiftly brought in. "You and I?"

"You and I," he echoed, tipping her chin up to him.

Unable to resist, Kal reached again and ran a finger lightly along his soft lower lip, before drawing away with a tremor. "You make me weak, elf," she groused in jest, masking her genuine worry over said fact.

"That makes two of us," he replied with a shadowed smile.

At closer view his gaze was unfocused, and his usual reserved manner appeared to wither with every touch, every movement.

He buried his face into her lightly wet hair. "We should go inside," he breathed deeply, loath to move at all from the brief shelter they had found. But night had already fallen. He ran a hand along her back and frowned at the state of her attire. "Soaked. Is this all you have?" He lightly pulled on the wet material for emphasis.

Kal nodded against him.

"Let us head back," he hedged, and so they gathered themselves and called to Eron before starting a retreat upward.

They advanced together in silence, their progress slowed by his injury as the elf moved with the partial aid of the staff Kal had retrieved. A cold wind blew and reached beneath her wet tunic. And she felt _him_ keenly, leaning lightly against her, trusting her with his balance.

An oblique thought trickled its way into her mind. There was no search to be had in this state. At least for now, the elf was forced to stand aside and not venture anywhere into peril. The Black Land was but a memory, though ever present and come alive every day in much of what she did. And it now threatened to take away more than she ever thought likely. Kal had no remembrance of a time when she had felt so free, and yet so very tethered.

They entered the stone halls and traversed the corridor leading further inside, propped against one another in silent comfort.

"This way," the elf motioned when they reached a junction of corridors. Deep within the settlement he led her, and Kal realized they came to a place she had never been.

"Here," he pointed as Legolas moved towards a door and opened it, making a motion with his hand for her to enter.

Kal raised an eyebrow but bent down to Eron bidding him stay, and the wolf reluctantly descended on all fours beside the door.

Following inside after the welcoming gesture, she saw a room not much different from her own. There was a cot arranged in one corner, and Kal noticed very few personal items laid across the chamber. The space was clean, though it was colder here. Her searching gaze flitted over the room as the elf went towards one corner, retrieving a thick cloth. He neared and placed the cloth over her head with a roguish smile, making circular motions as to dry her hair.

Kal ran her fingers along his forearms, stilling his movements. She took the cloth and began drying her own hair.

He turned to a wooden shelf lining one wall, where Kal saw what appeared to be items of clothing.

"Try this," the elf offered simply, drawing close with a folded bundle.

Kal grimaced, wrapping the cloth around her hair. "It is no need, truly. I should fare well in my own garb."

His smile faded somewhat. "It might be too large for you, but it is dry."

Dazedly gaping at him, she took the proffered garment. "You are... insistent," she settled for a softer word with a grin. Somehow calling him a _blasted elf_ did not come as easily anymore.

Kal looked to the item in her hands as the elf turned from her, and she saw him pull his own wet tunic over his head, turning to reach for a dry one. She followed his movement with entranced curiosity, the firm lines and muscles highlighted by soft candle flickers, and even took two hesitant steps - the need to touch him burning at the tips of her fingers. She then remembered the grey offering she held, the cloth immensely soft to the touch. Without a second thought, she buried her face in it. It had his scent, Kal surmised closing her eyes. In swift movements, she divested herself of the wet garment before throwing the gifted one over her head. It had a flat collar, embroidered with remnants of silver thread at the hem. It was a male fit to be sure and large for her size, reaching past her knees.

Legolas regarded her evenly as he neared. "Light shades suit you."

Kal pulled at the long sleeves, unsure what to say. All she saw were his eyes, which strayed to her hands. He reached for each of her wrists and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. "There," he said when done, looking back at her.

It felt good to be enveloped by his scent but not the same as holding him close. With that thought in mind Kal swiftly sought him in an open embrace, immensely gratified by his startled wisp of laughter. He _was_ different, and yet the same. She breathed him in.

"I must go see to my brother," he spoke muffled into her hair, holding and swaying with her slowly, back and forth. One arm was trapping her to him while his other hand slid upward with more pressure, reaching to cradle the back of her head. "Do you want to join me?"

Kal hesitated. "I believe it best you go alone, for now."

"Wait for me, here?" the elf asked softly, a smothered edge to his words. He must have known it made him appear vulnerable, the masks fallen and shattering, but he seemed not to care.

Kal nodded wordlessly before her mind even caught the meaning of his question, drawing the hapless conclusion that there was little she wanted to deny him. There was little she _could_ deny him at the moment. An unsettling discovery, but she did not fear it, not now. And she wanted him close, for as long as possible. Kal lifted her head. Her own hand tangled in his hair, just as his fingers stiffened into her.

"I will not be long," the elf said, his hold softening.

His words tickled her ear, his body steadied her. She smiled. She would wait.

* * *

When Legolas crossed the threshold, he saw his brother was awake. He had been moved to his own space from the healing chamber and now lay abed with an utterly defeated look upon his tired features. Legolas knew it spoke more than anything of the burden of boredom his brother loathed, ever since they had been elflings. Tadion had never taken well to being forced off his feet, a trait which survived well into his later years.

"Highness," his brother leveled Legolas with a blank stare, and the corners of his lips struggled against turning upward.

Legolas drifted towards a seat at the side of his brother and descended with as much care as his own injury allowed.

"Ai..." Tadion grimaced, discontent plain on his pallid face. "They had you limping," he remarked dryly on the state of his older kin.

"And many other things were it not for you," his brother murmured.

"If not for _her_," Tadion countered, the hesitant tone a novel development.

When silence fell Tadion looked into his brother's eyes briefly, only to look again. His own eyes widened before he let his head fall down tiredly onto the pillow. "For Eru's sake..." he said dejectedly unto the ceiling.

Legolas stared away, half a smile pulling at his lips.

Tadion tried to speak but a heavy cough shook his frame, and his lips stained with thin webs of crimson. Legolas reached for a wet cloth placed in a bowl beside the pallet and wiped his mouth.

They both sat staring into the empty space before them.

Tadion pursed his lips. "It took you long enough."

The other elf scoffed, but said nothing.

"Well, so it goes."

Legolas frowned, watching his kin with mild surprise etched on his face. "That is all you have to say?" he queried in bleak disbelief.

"What else is there to say!" Tadion broke into an honest, mild chortle. "Please, brother, to me it was painfully obvious from the moment I saw you speaking in the woods," he drawled.

"Was it now," his brother said, woefully unconvinced.

"Do not insult me," Tadion muttered, glancing back to the empty ceiling. "I will still say I disapprove. But then, what does it all matter anymore. Customs, laws, peoples," his words meandered. "We barely ever manage to keep a few of the common values alive, and even then we falter."

"What in Arda happened to your face?" Legolas changed the topic, pointing to the blackened marks on his brother's jaw. It was only now that he noticed them.

"Your chosen happened," Tadion grumbled. "She nearly speared me through for you." He ceased for a moment as if mulling over his words. His green eyes lost their usual terseness. "I may have been _partly_ mistaken about her."

Legolas accepted the barest apology his brother would ever give, with no more than a nod and a light look of knowing mischief.

"You still mean to pursue the Black Land?"

Legolas did not reply right away. "You know I will."

Tadion offered a shattered sigh. "In truth, I may even pity her," he added wryly, and none said another word.

"That wooden chest, in the corner," the bedridden elf spoke into the silence after a while, gesturing towards said object. "Go and unlock it."

Legolas rose and reached the chest. Upon opening the intricately carved lid, he saw an array of personal effects contained within.

"There is a small, dark pouch within."

Legolas found the indicated object and returned slowly to his brother's side.

"Open it," Tadion urged and his elder did so, unfastening the strings and turning it over so the contents spilled into his palm.

"What is this?..." he asked Tadion, his face changed in mild confusion.

"They were ours to exchange, Esteriel and I. Of course, we..." he trailed away for a while, into another fit of coughing. "...we were never given the chance." He regarded his brother. "Yours, now," he said with a vague wave of his hand.

"Tadion, I cannot take this," Legolas regarded the golden sheen with a grave expression.

"Do not be ridiculous. Do what you will with them," Tadion quipped, but reserved kindness shone through his eyes.

Legolas watched his brother; his younger brother, who had seen and lost too much and hoped too little in his young life; who faced his grief and loss as best he could; who was yet alive, at his side. His fingers closed around the slight shapes, his fist come to his chest. "Your gift is accepted, Tadion son of Thranduil."

"They are mere objects either way," Tadion said, his eyes again on the ceiling. "The memory must be put to rest," he followed, speaking to himself. "...I will see her again."

Legolas lowered his head in honor of the words, watching Tadion with a raw expression of gratitude, and understanding for his uncertain and strenuous hope.

The two brothers sat a while longer in amiable silence, recalling days afore time and basking in memories, until Tadion finally fell into a deep, healing sleep.

* * *

Upon his return, the elf found Kal splayed across the cot, her eyes hooded, but awake. He closed the door and went to her, smoothly descending by her side despite his injury.

Her eyes brightened, and he was struck by the image of her, like this. Garbed as Kal was in his tunic, the material carelessly sliding off one shoulder, she appeared so much smaller. The opposite of what he had seen in a camp of Uruk-hai in Ithilien. A powerful urge to protect her rose within him, despite knowing the strength this one was capable of wielding. No, this was not a time for such things, a former thought reemerged. There never had been. But the refuge she offered drew him in, like the flame of a spent candle during cold, endless nights - and now, looking at her, it was easier to accept; he craved that warmth.

Kal palmed his cheek as he watched her, the feathering touch drifting to the collar of his tunic, pulling and beckoning him down to her.

He easily obliged, his arms winding around her as they fell against each other. Kal reached above him, allowing her body to soften against his, their legs come tangled together.

Still so different, this side to him. It was close to unguarded, and so... giving_. _Briefly, she garnered the distinction between this, and his morose expression back when she had asked the elf, then a stranger, to lead her out of North Ithilien. "How is he?" she asked.

"As well as can be," Legolas replied, looking rather content to be trapped beneath her. He reached and slowly ran both hands through her hair.

She liked the way he watched her, and all of it began with that one moment on the shore; the rain had been cold, and he had been warm. She leaned closer to his face and parted his lips with hers, boldly and avidly. His hand was running a firm trail from her hair to her nape, along her spine, settling on her lower back.

"Show me again," Kal asked, reveling in the pressure of his touch, drawing away to place her lips to his brow.

"Show you..." the elf repeated, distracted, and visibly affected by her ardor.

Kal felt the hand to her back, keeping her down further, before gliding to her hip. His fingers curled into her garment.

"The memories," she entreated, her words broken by the heat pooling like a boiling waterfall into her. When she met his eyes, they were more black than grey. She would lose herself in them. "I want to see."

His dark lashes lowered. His smile was fainter, but it carried. "...What do you want to see?" The last time had not ended so well.

"The green, and the skies," Kal ceased when his other hand reached along her side, pressing her hips down. Unknowingly she had begun to roll them against his. He had always been so tense, so contained, but now she felt a muted disquiet about him, a tediously restrained fervor. She drew away and regarded his youthful face, his lost gaze, felt the erratic throb of his life, pounding against her chest. So he _was_ just as weak as she. The proof of it pleased her. "I want to see who you were, before," Kal spoke against his parted mouth, "The places you have known," she added, smiling.

The elf turned with them so they faced each other on their side, holding her close. He would not seek too deep. "Then, come to me," he grinned, his gaze drifting to her lips.

Kal leaned close again, watching her unlikely prisoner, his hair fanned messily about him. How stark a change, she thought, recalling the manner of their first encounter. His eyes were kind and his features were open to her. She claimed his mouth again, and before long his silk parted her lips for more. His soft moan vibrated into her, reaching all the way to her belly, causing a clenching knot. Her arms she coiled around him, lost in the scent of his skin and his restless breathing and the hard pressure of him against her. Kal soon stilled as he tried reaching her, allowing his flow into her thought. It meshed with hers, and she drifted on the drum of another life.

Images were forming as beheld through the eyes of another, swimming in shades of bluish-green and dusted amber gold. She saw tranquil sunsets where a never seen body of fire crossed the path to a land undying. She saw a youngling, his silver head bobbed down in wonder at his first sight of a woodland animal. Then a great living tree and endless halls adorned with elegant arches and living adornments.

There were more of his kind, tall and proud and ethereal, and a great silver-haired elf with a keen eye and steady gaze, sparring with his young son. She saw glowing lights in the sky again, and a silver sphere rising above a great forest, and tall mountains looming in the distance. The high winds lashed at her face.

Kal deepened the kiss, emboldened by the elating sensation of being wrapped around each other, like growing vines fleeing to catch the light. She saw skies of the brightest hue, and a sea of greys and dark blues, as deep and hidden as his eyes.

_Lies..._

Kal gasped, the word slashing through it all like a blade.

A voiceless bellow against her mind, reaching down to her bared center. Kal stiffened and her fingers went rigid around his neck, the bliss fragmented, crashing around her like the shards of a falling wall of glass.

"Kal, what ails you?" his voice reached her from so far away.

She was drowning, or so it felt. Her skin and the flesh beneath burned from blazing pyres, ruthless and all-seeing in their chase.

_To the center._

A command, and a warning.

_Follow, _ _downward._

And then it all crumbled away, the words and the molten burning cores, the threat shadowing her sight of him.

And there was such strength, wading through her, tempting with greatness, shrieking. She would break at the seams. Kal shielded her face from the specter of the Tower looming before her, and the faster she ran the closer it appeared, and soon the alchemy halls were calling.

"Release me!" she cried hoarsely to no one.

The Tower was shredded, shafts of light tearing at the nether, and Kal grasped hopelessly at the tunneling rays reaching for her.

The shadow receded, and the half-orc only noticed she was weeping when she saw herself in the room again, held fast and securely into a vice grip. She felt his arms safely around her shoulders. The elf must have brought her into a sitting position and was now cradling her to him, repeating things Kal failed to perceive. She felt him, brighter and warmer around her.

"I have you," soft words reached her, "I have you, Kal." His presence and life beat quietened her own. "It is safe," he cupped her face in his palms. There was a fresh red scratch on his left cheek.

_He lies._

Kal hissed in her stupor, her shoulders still shaking from the onslaught of the unexpected invasion.

"You are safe," the elf repeated time and again, touching his forehead to hers, holding her as though she would up and flee. He rocked back and forth with her in his arms, "I will ensure it."

_Follow._

She listened to the certainty in his voice, all the while striving to smother the word yet resounding in her head, gaining berth in endless ripples.


	36. One's weakness

When she woke Kal was alone, lying on her side in the same space she had been the night before. A throbbing headache made itself known. She pinched the bridge of her nose, recalling this was _his_ space. She remembered little after the elf had hedged her to lie down and rest once her body regained itself. She then felt him carefully wrapping himself around her and had welcomed it more than she could say. Kal still heard his words, uncoiling the pieces of turmoil and doubt, then the steady pressure of a warm palm splayed across her middle. She had fallen asleep in the end, huddled against him.

Her mind clearing with each moment, Kal rose into a sitting position. Apart from the wrecking invasion which had happened again while they opened to each other, Kal felt a novel blend of fear and anticipation. Her thought strayed to all that had happened between them the day before. All that had changed between them, though for better or worse, she was yet unsure. He was different ever since, in the way he looked at her, in the way he spoke, the way he touched her.

But as she ran her palms over her face, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes - which, surprisingly, had been rather dreamless and uneventful after last night - the half-orc pondered on what she had heard and felt. What would the elf be lying to her about, of all beings? In passing realization Kal thought of how she trusted him more than anyone she knew. He truly did not appear one inclined towards falsehoods, but the surety with which the voice had repeated its ominous warning had left its mark.

_And why should I trust it?_ It could very well be nothing but her past, recoiling and uprising with the deep, all too recent changes. She had been, and felt, alone before. Not so now. But it all seemed to happen whenever they opened to each other. What did the one, desperately insistent direction mean? _What _could possibly be urging her ever downward and why her? Was it even a place? None of this had disturbed her in such specific ways, not until, she realized, after setting foot on this isle.

He had wanted to seek Arwen after Kal regained some of herself but she had refused, instead pleading repeatedly with him to stay. And so he did, to her greatest relief.

Just as she was wondering where the elf was, the door to the chamber opened to reveal the subject of her thoughts, followed closely by Eron. Legolas closed the door carefully behind him as their eyes met, and crossed the space, to her, bearing a wooden bowl. She observed his limping was somewhat reduced, and he had already rescinded resorting to a crutch. Despite all her weariness, her chest felt tight at the sight.

The elf allowed Eron his greeting, while the wolf wasted no time pouring itself onto Kal by way of licks, tail swishes, and low mewling, drowning her. Her face lit, and she could only receive the display with open arms before bringing them around Eron.

"I took him along when I left," Legolas knelt and placed the bowl beside Kal near the pallet. The elf looked Kal over with mild concern yet etched on his face. "This is to eat," he pointed to the contents of the bowl, a selection of dried red berries. "How do you feel?"

"Not too damaged," she offered lightly, though the shadow in his eyes never lifted. He did not believe her. Kal did not know it as much as she felt he did not. Peculiar. She reached over the playful darting head of the wolf and cupped his drawn cheek, her smile wider when he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. "I would travel to those warm pools you showed me, today," Kal said. Following this, she aimed to find the elf Arwen herself, and see what aid was needed with the work of the day. Then she added, a dash too swiftly for her own liking, "Join me?"

The elf placed his own hand over hers, pressing her fingers into his skin. "I will go see my brother," he began even as Kal reached for him with her other hand, smoothing his hair back from his face. It was a compulsion she could barely now restrain. Touching him. "But we could meet there later if you remember the way?"

"I do," Kal dropped her hands from his face and lowered her eyes to Eron, whose cold wet nose demanded attention. She looked back to the elf. Should she tell him of it? Of the words and the command at the back of her mind? The answer clawed.

_Not yet. _What if it awoke doubts, not only concerning herself but her newfound allegiance and change of heart. What if both he and others would think her irreparably marked by their foes? The past had to stay behind. She ought to forget the wails of beaten beings, the ruthless subsistence reducing them close to desperate animals. The echoes off reddened dungeon walls splattered with remains. She wanted to forget her own self, fearful and ruthless and unknowing of anything beyond the need for survival. She wanted _him_ to become a lost whisper on a dark day. The half-orc who once knew nothing but the industries of Mordor did want to attempt leading a different life. And one constant and a certainty became the notion, that she wanted this elf in it.

She met his eyes again, and swallowed seeing that Legolas had been silently watching her.

"It keeps happening when we join in mind," the elf said, his features changed, the worry he was smothering brimming to the fore. "I do not know why, but you appear to be most vulnerable then. It is best we do not attempt it again," he concluded regretfully, reaching for her hand. "Was this different from your nightmares?" Of course, he recalled her restless nights and outbursts during their trek through Ithilien. The elf remembered what he had seen during one specific time when he tried to bereave her of a nightly fright.

Kal gave a silent nod, averting her gaze. If this was all he asked of it, she would concede gladly.

"Kal," Legolas repeated, his gaze set on how his thumb ran circles into her palm.

Kal kept her eyes on the wolf.

"Was there anything else?"

"Anything else?" Kal mouthed absently, her limbs tensing as for battle with her unease. She willed herself into clarity.

If he noticed, Legolas said nothing. "I know how it is to wish to bury something deep enough until it ceases to rage," his thumb reached the inside of her wrist, "And I understand if you would rather not speak of it-"

"No, elf-" she shook her head.

"-And I will not press you," Legolas continued undeterred, "But know, there is nothing that would change mine or anyone else's regard of you. Less so my feelings," he added, watching her expression.

Kal swallowed, yet unable to look his way. She wanted to reach for him, wanted him to hold her as before, to still and steady her. Kal pulled her wrist away, afraid he would feel her agitation with his uncanny ability to read unspoken signs.

"I only hope, you can find it in you to believe me," Legolas added, wanting so much for her to see this. Though worried at her reckless boldness, she had played an integral role in saving his own life. A feat unasked for, but he would not trade his life presently for any and all of the healing rest in the realm of Mandos. Not now, with her in it. He reached and ran his fingers through the sheet of her disheveled hair. It was rather soft, its scent reminiscent of wild forests of the old world, but still distinctly her. He would know it anywhere.

Her features were schooled into a faint smile when Kal looked his way again. "I believe you, Legolas," she lied.

His insides turned to lead, but the elf returned her smile when he felt her warm hands placed atop his.

"I do," Kal repeated firmly. More than anything, she wanted to.

* * *

It was midday by the time she reached the pools, the ones Legolas had explained sprang from the depths of the earth and were ever warm. She recalled there were two valleys close to one another lined by these rare wonders of nature, but Kal could not remember the specifics of what the elf had said about them. Still wearing his tunic she walked forward with her own garments under her arm. Regarding the view before her, Kal saw flat land surrounded by high rock formations sparsely bedecked with trees. The wolf had gone to appease its own curiosity, running and heading back and forth in their close whereabouts.

Kal turned her head up to regard the grey skies, then approached one of the pools. Upon reaching the edge she removed her boots and watched the clean gurgling water for a moment, before dipping one bare foot inside. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, the warm murmur gushing against her skin. She removed her tunic and then her lower layer of clothing, and carefully descended into the water with a sigh of relief. The tension and pressure inside eased, and her mind, wearied by the recent strain, began to unwind. She let her head fall back to rest against the edge, sighing deeply. Her body felt light as air, adrift with the gentle swaying currents beneath her.

Kal shut her eyes, her mind straying, again, back to the previous day. Whatever had passed, she felt it was a precipice they had both leapt from, and there was no returning to how things were before. She had seen little of this kind of display in the Black Land and knew even less, apart from stolen touches she had witnessed and sounds heard at times from the human workers, on certain nights in the barracks or on the open fields, when in the sparse time allowed for rest some would disappear together to pursue their bodily needs. Children would at times come of it, and in Mordor, those were the most unfortunate. But this was not the same. It was more, much more, and running stronger than she could ever have imagined, exposing deeper, unrevealed parts of herself. It was frightening, but mostly it was incredibly elating.

Kal felt him before she saw him. She opened her eyes and looked to the side, rising with her elbows propped against the edge. She felt a light hand on her head by way of greeting. The bubbling waters swished against her skin, and Kal watched him remove his own boots and roll up his trousers to his knees before descending down to sit on the edge beside Kal, one knee to his chest, and submerging his uninjured leg into the pool.

"You found it," Legolas smiled looking at her, and there may have been a tint of faded mischief in his eyes.

"I did," Kal met his grey stare, turning in the water to face the edge.

"However," he continued, "these are the pools that the men make use of," he said, appearing somewhat amused.

Kal frowned, but then recalled him mentioning this before. She had forgotten the details. "Only the men? Why?"

The elf leaned back propped on his arms, admiring the sight of her. "Many races coexist here, as you have already seen," he began. "There are fewer of our kind dwelling here than there are humans, for instance," Legolas explained. "And elves do not adhere to the division between males and females in this way. Humans, however, or indeed other races see it differently." He smirked. "They hold to what some call 'propriety'."

"Propriety... it is hard on the ears," Kal snorted.

Legolas grinned wider, leaning forward and running a light hand over her damp head of hair. "You boast an endearing lack of it. But others may not see it so. Humans do not reveal themselves so freely."

"Then I will try not to insult them too much," Kal smiled his way, her heart hammering anew when he leaned even closer.

"At least," Legolas caught a brief sight of their surroundings before meeting her eyes again, "there will be no one here for a while," he assured.

Kal felt very warm all of a sudden, the greys in his eyes weakening her. "Do it again," she rose from the water closer to his face, placing her palms on the edge.

The elf raised an eyebrow, but the way her eyes flickered to his mouth answered his unspoken question. He cupped her face in his palms. "You wish for me to kiss you," he ran a thumb over her lower lip.

"If that is what you call it," Kal barely finished before she felt him, warm and fresh on her lips. Pleasure rippled through her in waves, mellowing her chest, warming her womb, her limbs.

When he broke away and looked at her Kal found it the hardest task to open her eyes. "I... never thought you capable of acting this way," she slurred dazedly. "I never met _anyone_ acting this way."

His fingers feathered along her neck, following down to the curve of her shoulder. "I was too caught in the past, to see you. And then, it was unexpected and frightening besides, if you must know," he admitted, a corner of his mouth curving upward.

"Frightened? You?" she taunted. Kal then moved closer, resting her elbows on his knee, her chest flattening against his leg. Her smile grew impish.

His finger distractedly drew circular shapes along her shoulder. "This, what we have now, it happens... for elves, it tends to not happen very often. For most, it occurs once, really," Legolas offered.

A new concept. Kal knew little of Men, but in this, in closeness and need, she drew the conclusion that they differed to the elves - at least from what she was hearing.

"And I never expected it to be you. I know my manner towards you has at times been... abrupt, to say the least-"

"Why are you telling me this?" Kal reached for a strand of silvery hair, feeling its sleek softness between her thumb and forefinger.

The elf looked down between them. "For this plain reason: I need you to know, Kal," he said. "That is not how one treats others, and I was sorely lacking towards you."

Kal pressed herself more into him. The centers of his eyes were wide and black, having nearly consumed the greys. "I affect you," she said, and a grin crept to her face. There was that color again, so pleasing across his normally cold features.

The elf leaned forward, keenly feeling her skin burning against his leg through the material. "And I hide it poorly." He was... content? To have her close, to see her safe. For the life of him, Legolas could not remember a time he had truly been _content_ or anywhere close to such, after the War. It was ludicrous how the simplest things about someone could cause such withering gales within, ones hard to grasp and contain. It would certainly take some getting used to.

"And you are different now," Kal ran her palm along his thigh, feeling the muscle tense.

"That is a possibility," Legolas allowed, following how her hand moved over him. "But so are you, Kal of the Black Land."

Kal smiled when his scent was so near she was drowning in it, and closed her eyes as his mouth found hers again.

"But I do not like it," she said breathily, breaking away. "This... weakness," she looked down between them. "It makes..." Kal hesitated when met with his questioning gaze. "It makes me think of you too often, and need you in ways I did not before, and..." she trailed away as the elf melted against her with a sigh.

"It is no weakness," Legolas said into her hair before meeting her eyes again. "Not if we are together."

"That is... strange," Kal mouthed, a little lost. "And you said it happens once, for your... our, kind?" Kal returned to his previous words.

Legolas nodded. "We do seek companionship, not unlike humans, or many other races for that matter."

"Companionship," Kal smiled, lowering herself to rest with her head on his knee. "Friendship, and closeness. Trust... and more..." She stared upward at him. Who knew that after all they lived through, this creature would become so rooted in her life? "This," she smiled, pointing from him to her.

"Yes," his hand went to the back of her neck, and Kal felt his fingers lightly grazing her nape. "To live and thrive together. Before, it was... let us call it the natural order of things."

"But not for you," she surmised teasingly, "since you had no one?"

Legolas scoffed. "You are far too inquisitive for your own good, rhaweth."

Kal raised an eyebrow, looking pestered. Rh- what? "What does that mean?" her eyes narrowed.

His smile was bright, revealing straight pearly teeth. "When you learn my language, you will know."

Kal huffed. "I have barely been made aware of how similar we are and you pile impossible tasks on me."

"Not a task," he shook his head. "But I will be there to aid you-," the elf ceased, as though a shadow marred his thought.

"Do I have your word?" Kal asked swiftly and suddenly, rising from the water with her arms on either side of him even as Legolas drew her in by sheer impulse.

"...that you will be here, and sit with me by the sea, and teach me your silly birdsong language?" she was asking.

His hands slipped along the wet curves of her as the elf fell on his back, holding Kal to him. His blood felt too heated, and Legolas nearly laughed at how easily she drew the barest, deepest, most stubborn need out of him, ever since their walls fell. His grasp on her tightened. "Of course I will be here, you are..." _mine, _was the first word coming to mind, shaking him. He kept his peace on what it all meant to him, to them - for now. This despite feeling her already flowing into him, into each other. They would tread lightly.

Kal sprawled completely atop him, oblivious, her keen lips following the hollow of his neck; her warm mouth lingered over the pulse of life beneath his skin, pleased at his sharp intake of breath and the curling of his body around her.

Legolas wanted to speak to her of Aragorn, to ask of the Tower, he burned to. But now, well, now was not the time. He closed his eyes at the warm, riling pressure. And how could he? There would come the time to remind her that he was to leave again, of his own will for that matter, in pursuit of the very place she fled from. Her hair was soft against his cheek and neck, her body warm and seeking him. No, now was not the time.

His arms wound tighter around her, with the decision to speak of it when she regained more of herself. _Later. _"I will do all I can, to be there when you need me," the elf spoke into her. His fingers were pressing into her back before finding the soft curve of her hip. His words settled and disappeared on the shivering winds.

Kal let him trail away into wishes and desires, as the murkiness within began to needle and hiss with renewed frenzy. She swallowed the drowning tides.

_Lies_.

She touched and felt him more desperately. It kept the shadow at bay.

"It will be you and I, by the Great Sea," the elf added, rising into a seated position, plying Kal against him.

Her arms were knit around his neck as Kal listened, and she huddled closer for more warmth. "Do you swear?" Then came the feeling of sinking deeply, like meshing with him. She wondered what it would be like to meld with him completely. Kal heard him speak again, caught the firmness in his voice.

_Lies._

"I swear it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all readers old and new! I appreciate you, I do.


	37. High hopes

Kal lifted her braid and coiled her hair atop her head, fastening it with a thin leather strap. It was a warm though gloomy day, and the waves of a lively sea crashed furiously against the isle, spraying the figures on its rocky shores with cold saltwater. Kal yelped as a stronger shower nearly tilted her balance amid the jagged rocks.

It was midday, and she had accompanied Arwen and a few other womenfolk on the task of oyster harvesting for the evening meal.

"What of this one?" Kal extended her palm to show the elf maid her fare.

Arwen peered at the oyster, nodding with a small smile. She was barefooted, a feat Kal admired considering the slippery, sharp rocky terrain and boulders they were wading through. She was garbed in a similar grey tunic and breeches to the ones Kal was presently wearing, fastened with a dark sash around her willowy waist.

Kal threw the oyster into the sieved metal container placed atop a higher boulder before stooping to resume her search.

Every so often she saw Arwen cease her work and linger staring out across the sea with a forlorn gaze.

"It is the same for you," Kal ventured, closing her eyes as more saltwater sprinkled her face. "The call of the sea."

Her words took Arwen out of her reverie, grey eyes resting on Kal. "The calling is there."

"But not the path," said Kal. "Legolas told me as much."

At the mention of his name, Arwen gave a small smile, and it seemed to Kal her face gained a different light. It was a rare sight. "I take it, you two have spoken."

Kal rubbed the back of her neck before bending to inspect another closed shell. Perhaps_ spoken _would not be the most fitting term to define what had happened between them. She knew not how to describe it. Legolas had called it companionship, and...

Seeing confusion and vague unease written on her face, the elf maid turned to gaze towards the sea anew.

There was a soaring need then, to share more of herself, of them. A light sliver pulsing through her mind, an eagerness and openness which engulfed her, not unlike the peaceful song of the heavy dark waves crashing against them. More than anything, the being before her was someone dear to _him_, and belonging had become a sought-for goal. It weeded its way into her mind and spirit, steadily growing stronger roots. No matter the niggling fell voice, no matter the nightmares or disruption hailing from she knew not where. "He wants me to stay," Kal said, careful of her steps through the shallows. "And I would be fain to," she added with some unease, unsure of the way her words would be received. Kal apprehensively met the grey eyes she felt on her.

But on the other's face, she saw no expression of surprise, resent nor anything else for that matter. "I have seen little joy in him, in recent years." She had seen none. "And then yesterday, I saw my friend smiling," Arwen offered, the slight upward tilt of her lips still present. "You are good for him."

Golden eyes widened on her. "You... you know?"

"I sense," Arwen conceded. "Just as I sense you are not yet bound."

Kal raised an eyebrow at the little red crabs scuttling and roaming about the stones. She took one in her palm, regarding it suspiciously. "Bound?..."

And so the maid proceeded to tell her what it all meant. She spoke of togetherness, of customs followed afore time among their kind, building on the sparse details Kal already knew from Legolas.

Her eyebrows rose then fell, and some things, including his change in manner and the stirrings she felt within, were beginning to fall into place. Kal said nothing, marveling at the unusual ways of their kind, of a race she apparently partly belonged to. And the more she thought of him there came the need to see and hold him again. His recent words were a balm to her troubled mind, his tender touch a haven. But now her elf had disappeared within the smithy for much of the day, aiding Gimli the dwarf with needed repairs or building plans. They would meet again in the evening, but time had never trailed so slowly and slovenly.

"And you?..." Kal decided to bar her longing by focusing on the present. "Are you bound to any?"

She saw the elf stiffen, her dark eyebrows set in a slight frown. "I was- I _am_, pledged. But to one not of my race."

Naturally, Kal asked what and where he was, having seen none in the company of Arwen save for Legolas.

"Lost, at the Black Gate," came the soft words as the elf maid took the container, now reasonably full, and began an ascent followed by Kal.

An old hurt trickled its poison within, and vivid memories of the Gate and life beyond it darkened her mood. They had all lost someone. "During the war?" Kal wanted to know, her curiosity the winner.

Arwen nodded as the half-orc reached her side. "We know not whether he yet lives."

"_We_?" Kal blinked.

Arwen was silent for a time, and worry spread its suffocating tentacles, leeching on her insides.

"Legolas tries," the elf maid offered in the end. "He travels the perils of Ithilien still, hoping to gain insight, seeking for him. He yet believes Estel lives."

_Estel_. Kal froze. So this was the one. This elf's intended mate was the sole reason Legolas kept returning to the Black Land, the reason he so tirelessly sought a way inside. And as angry tides swelling against the shores of her mind, Kal remembered his words before he left to hunt the Uruk. Inquiring of her visions. Asking of the Tower. The elf had told her then, that what he had witnessed during their connection had been a place of his own nightmares. His words gained a different meaning. _In the Tower...he... may be..._

Dread choked, stilled. She never wanted to return. She never wanted _him_ to return to that place of peril and death and torment. A great wall rose between her and peace, understanding dawning as to why he was so blindly determined. It was not for himself alone.

"And what do you believe?..." Kal dared ask, the hopeless tone Arwen had used not lost on her.

"I do not know anymore," was all she heard, and both fell into silence brooding on their own thoughts. Their group was to reach the narrow valley they would traverse towards one of the hidden passageways leading to the mountain dwelling.

A chain of cliff and rock rose high along the island, arrayed as though it were its rocky spine, and taller peaks loomed in the distance not far from them. Kal was aiding to carry their fare, and when it happened she nearly folded in on herself.

The same urge, nameless, formless. Voiceless. Beckoning, commanding her, both tempting and frightening in its incursion of her spirit. Kal ceased walking and swayed, her grip on the container weakening. She looked back towards the mountain chain, to unknown paths she had not yet traveled on the island. It was there. It should be there, somewhere. Kal had no notion of what _it_ was, but the need to end this torment was so great she nearly sprang into a run towards the narrow crags.

"Kal." The lilt of a feminine voice amid her stupor. "Are you unwell?" Arwen repeated her question, seeing the other shaking, her gaze set behind them.

"What is there?" Kal asked, breathless, her voice hissed and broken as she pointed towards the mountain peaks.

Arwen turned her head to the rocky terrain. There was worry etched onto her features. "A grave and nothing more," was all she said, before her hands reached to steady Kal. "Let us go, can you proceed?"

Kal nodded, completely afire and overwhelmed with the scathing need to head northward, and seek, seek, seek.

The elf maid called to her again when she would not move. Remembering herself and smoothing escaped strands of black from her face, Kal followed with one last look towards the tall cliffs, the furious burst behind her ribs beating with anger, suspicion, and a newfound lust to _take_. None of it was hers. She would tell... she needed to...

But the insidious, veiled intent she felt was urging the opposite.

No, she would not speak of it. To anyone.

* * *

As evening descended on the world the denizens of the meager community gathered for the usual meal in the great hall. Kal was alone, having changed in her chamber after the day's work, her gaze now roaming across the enclosure. With a resigned sigh, Kal then concluded the one she sought was nowhere in sight. She thought of him then, craving his company more than she could say, and dreading the topic she suspected Legolas would eventually broach with her. _Where are you?_

"Here," Kal felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to mellow instantly at the nearness of a now familiar warmth, so missed and dear. Kal slowly turned to face him, and gold melted into grey.

It all felt so right, that Kal did not even ask how the elf had answered her unspoken thought. There was a light in his eyes which diminished the day's dark thoughts, their shadows cowering under the brightness his presence nurtured.

"Elf," Kal greeted, wanting to throw herself at him, so strong was the need to feel him close. But she only watched him enraptured until Eron came between them, nudging at her with his nose. The wolf had been with Legolas for the entire day, and was eager to see her though surprisingly docile.

Wordlessly she was drawn into an embrace, and Kal sighed at the freshness and stillness washing over her.

"You were troubled today," the elf whispered into her hair.

Kal noticed a few gaping stares as folk passed by them but most averted their gaze swiftly, settling for exchanging meaningful looks.

"They gawk," Kal said into him, unsure whether the unwanted attention bothered or intrigued her.

"Let them," she was brought closer, and melting into him Kal again recalled his uncanny ways and ability to sense her. Worryingly, it appeared to work both ways, as the growing restlessness she now felt was not her own. Then resurfaced thoughts of the mountains, the Tower, and the urge, the covetous, unrelenting pull she had felt earlier. She had to get there somehow.

"Your leg?" Kal tried to dispel the notion, setting her mind into a blank.

"Better," was all she heard, and warm palms were cupping her face. Kal sighed and leaned ever nearer, drawn to his flame-

Someone cleared their throat.

His palms slid from her face and Kal felt their loss, cursing the interruption. They both turned to see a pale Tadion, slightly bent at the waist and leaning on a wooden staff for support.

He regarded his brother only briefly before his eyes strayed to Kal.

Overflowing with unease, Kal felt the pressure of a hand on her waist. She was prepared to see the usual resent flaring in ethereal green eyes, and the stiff dismissal she had seen before in the other elf.

But she was ill-prepared, as she saw neither, nor did she expect the words which followed.

"Would you at least _attempt_ to keep to yourselves here?" Tadion said dryly, now eyeing a space they could all use. "I would like to keep my dinner down at least once in this past week thank you very much," and he proceeded towards one of the long tables, followed by Legolas and a wary Kal.

"Up and about already? I thought Arwen had sentenced you to bed rest for another week," Legolas said lightly in Westron as the elves took their seats, Kal being drawn to sit beside the fair-haired elf at the table.

Tadion waved a hand dismissively, reaching to smooth a few rebellious dark strands behind his ear. "Utter nonsense," he grumbled, surprisingly in Westron. "You try staring at a cave ceiling for so long a time."

"I came to see you every few hours," Legolas deadpanned.

A green-eyed scoff. "All the while being somewhere else entirely," Tadion said meaningfully, though there was a faded twinkle of never seen mischief in his gaze when his brother glared his way.

Kal pursed her lips, an unwieldy smile attempting to crack her facade. Her hand reached for the warm one she needed beneath the table. She felt a light grip, keeping her grounded.

Tadion held his gaze trained on his brother, as though unspoken decisions were being weighed between them.

Legolas then turned to Kal. "I will go fetch us supper," and he rose from the table. She gaped at him pleadingly but in the end, grudgingly released his hand, and ere long she was left alone. With Tadion. The scrapes and splinters in the wood before her proved a most intriguing sight, and she began the task of counting them as silence fell.

Long fingers were tapping, tapping, tapping until Kal could take no more and lifted her gaze. She was met with a smirk, not a scowl at least, but features bearing that same haughtiness she had come to know by now.

"What," she hissed, perhaps a little too harshly.

The smirk persisted, and Kal helplessly looked beyond his dark head of hair, hoping Legolas would return soon.

"Take good care of him, orcling."

Her eyes cut back to Tadion, dark brows furrowing together. She opened her mouth then closed it, eyes narrowing, unsure whether he was indeed being himself or under the influence of whatever Arwen had fed him.

Tadion leaned back against the wooden bench, breaking their gaze. "You seem to fare better than I," he said as an afterthought.

Then and there Kal wondered, just how much it took from him to say such. When their eyes met again Kal saw a bleak, honest smile.

Her own lips curled upward. "I intend to."


	38. Where my shadows lie

"Êl síla erin lû e-govadad- ...," Kal frowned, repeating the too soft, all too melodious words.

She heard a barely contained wisp of laughter, and glared upwards with narrowed eyes.

Legolas knelt before her, a roguish smile on his face. "Êl síla erin lû e-_govaded_ 'wîn. But this was better. Much better dare I say, than your first attempts," his smile persisted at her visible pique.

Kal was sat on a boulder near the shore, facing the sea. A finely woven manuscript was presently in her lap, though most she could do was marvel at the elegant swirls neatly etched therein, running her fingers over brightly hued illuminations. The colors were of immeasurable beauty and like nothing she had ever seen before, with reds, yellows, and greens coming alive on the well preserved pages. Still, she could not discern the foreign symbols, her reading skills being limited to the stunted, straight signary of the Black Speech. And so Legolas would speak and convey meaning, and she would practice the sounds, for now.

Kal groaned, torn between taking his face in her hands to smother him with her lips and pulling at his hair as restitution for the teasing she saw dancing in his eyes. "I should like to see you attempt to learn Black Speech," she closed the tome.

Legolas made an appalled face and a clicking noise with his tongue. "Only if you wish me to bleed out my ears. Profusely."

"Either way," now she could not rein her own smile, "your lot are a strange folk indeed. Why would stars be shining of all things, when meeting someone for the first time? I have never even seen them."

The elf reached to tuck strands rebelling with the wind behind her ear. "Merely a convention of speech and recognition. I can imagine this may be foreign to you, considering the level of manners practiced in the Black Land," Legolas followed evenly as he sat down by her side. "I wish you could see the stars. Maybe someday."

His wistful tone was not lost on her. She pushed against him lightly, and his smile grew wider. Shoulder to shoulder they sat, staring outward to the dark mass of endless music. For that was what the sea meant to them. "Do you hear it now?" Kal asked, her language lesson long forgotten.

"It is ever there," the elf admitted, and felt her hand, smaller and colder, come placed over his. The notes gained a twisting, wailing resonance, moving with the waves. The elf allowed his thoughts to stray away as he watched the horizon, to forgotten days of yore. At this time a sunset would be in full bloom, streaking the skies in shining nuances of scarlet gold and amber, washing the world in changing light.

"Your brother seems to detest me less, I think," Kal said into the silence, her thought drifting back to the unusually pleasant meal shared with the brothers the other night.

He looked to their hands. "He has scars. Thus his trust is hard-earned nowadays, his affection even more so."

Kal regarded his pale face with understanding. "I am glad for the change, I am. He is your kin."

She felt a shade of grief reaching through him then, and wished she could somehow offer aid. As it was, there was not much to be done against what troubled him. Memories of the ranger fallen in Ithilien and the boy flitted across her mind, and dampened her mood.

"Do you think they await you, across the sea? The rest of your family, and your people?" Kal asked, setting the tome down onto his folded cloak on the ground, and bringing her knees up to her chest.

Legolas listened intently for a while to the distant cry of a seabird. Or perhaps he had misheard. "I do not know. My only hope is they are well, wherever they may be," came the unusually wistful answer. He had reached for an iridescent seashell at their feet, following its pearly shine with his thumb before throwing it back into the sand. Kal followed its landing not far from them, then looked back to his profile.

The hard intonation of his words was heavy lead upon their mood, and neither spoke for a time, content with listening to the winds drifting on the sea. And then, as Kal allowed her thoughts to flee and mesh with the falling eve, eager for peace, a dissonance was heard. Her blood curdled in her veins and she stiffened, unsure whether it was she alone who heard it. She regarded the elf in a brief sidelong glance. Then slowly, imperceptibly, Kal turned her head, her eyes focusing to the side, her hearing attuning to the familiar vibration rising behind their current position.

_Downward._

_You must._

It hissed its usual demand and she did her utmost to bar it from her mind, hoping it was swift enough so the elf would not sense her unrest. The command may have been a mere whisper on the breeze but, at least to Kal, it seemed to cast a heaviness around them.

"Do you remember anyone?" Legolas asked late into the silence, startling her. If he saw, the elf said nothing. "Anything at all to give you a notion of your origins? Of who your parents were?"

"Parents..." Kal trailed away, mouthing the word rarely heard among the humans toiling on the plains. "I remember none," Kal said and fell silent. Memories kindled then, each deeper than the last; a need to speak brimmed, to open to him, to share. His presence tended to do that, she had noticed. "But, during my years in the service of the Tower, there was someone," Kal let her head fall against his shoulder, her gaze lost in the past. "He wore the garb of alchemists, though his face was never revealed to me. Always he walked hooded, and his voice was cold, and hard, like... ash. He would offer many teachings, then resort to cruelty to ensure I remembered them. Or so he said. He would always maintain it was for my own _good_. He reveled in having a trinket to mold and torment, I think. Like many others festering in the bowels of that place." Hatred grew, dispersing the remnants of peace from moments ago. Nights spent in dim-lit cells shackled to cold walls came to the fore, and her fists clenched involuntarily. Kal felt his arm firmly wrapped around her and looked up to meet grey shadows of understanding. For some time now, she could no longer find it in her to resent it. It was honesty. It was him.

"I have upset you," said the elf, drawing her into him.

"It is nothing," Kal folded to his side. His scent was dewy and fresh, mingling with the sea. "It happened long ago, and I survived it. It is over," she said, fingers weaving with his. Then, finding her fortitude she sought to speak of that which she perceived was ever on his mind. "You are thinking of going, again."

The grip on her fingers tightened, but his gaze kept trained on the horizon. There may have been a heavy wave, of guilt and worry and something distinct, come crashing against the inner casings of her.

"He lives, I know he does, Kal. It appears absurd, and I acknowledge that, but I must keep trying."

Kal pressed her eyes tightly shut. "When?"

Legolas turned to her then, and again she saw guilt and remorse, all wrapped in a wretched sort of longing. "Once my injury is fully healed. But I... that is, do you recall your vision? Remember the last-"

"I do," Kal cut in. "You have seen the Tower. You think the one you seek may yet be held there. The maid Arwen spoke to me of him," her gaze reverted to the darkening sea. "I know her mate is the one you seek."

Legolas smiled sadly. "My sworn brother. And so much more." And with wavering words, he began sharing a tale spanning from the First Age of Arda, when a Half-elven king had chosen mortality. He spoke of Men, of their legacy, and the meaning of _Estel_. He told her of Aragorn, and all that he encompassed. All that the human meant to the world, and to him. And as the elf spoke his eyes lit at times before drowning in bleak harshness, his words conveying a living struggle, and Kal felt all the more troubled knowing she could not ask him to stay. In the end, silence fell between them again.

The weather was warm despite the looming night, and Kal suddenly rose, turning to face him. He appeared so riddled with regret, that she understood. There was another conflict waging within him now.

Kal took both his hands in hers, pressing lightly. Then she gave him another smile, and in one swift motion turned from him to shed her grey longshirt and leggings. She looked over her shoulder, smiling at the relaxed pose of his body as the elf followed her movement. "Join me?"

He only returned her smile, "I will wait for you."

Kal shrugged, and without looking back she ran and dove into the foaming water, allowing herself to drift on its languid waves. She saw Eron in the distance, rushing across the strip of shore with seemingly much to explore, his front paws digging deeply here and there. Not for one instant did the wolf appear idle. By the time she emerged from the sea, twilight had given way to blackness.

She retraced her steps to where the elf yet sat in thoughtful musing, leaning back leisurely propped on his arms, his legs crossed at the ankles. Kal grinned at the change on his features as he watched her, his gaze following her swaying form.

Warmth flushed her skin in a flowery wreath, down her neck and chest as she came to stand before him, nearly losing her balance when his palms burned along her thighs. Slowly they reached around her hips, upward, settling on the small of her back.

Kal swallowed, tilting her head back in a sigh. "Elf, let me... I want to go with you," she tried, seeing him so very amenable in his present state. There was a measure of dishonesty in doing so, she thought, but all she wanted was his safety. He could not march through Mordor, alone, no matter her dread at the very thought of setting foot in that place ever again.

The tips of his splayed fingers played on her skin, now meeting over her lower middle. "No..." he said, "Too perilous...you know this," Legolas finished absently as he brought his arms around her waist, pressing the side of his face against her belly. He smiled at her soft whimper. "This is... new to me as well," the elf changed the topic, his voice a warm murmur.

Her hips were playful in a tilt, against his smile. "You _have_ seen me before," Kal said, reaching to undo the main braid in his hair.

Legolas bit back a low sound in his throat as her fingers sifted through his loose strands. "But never like this," he replied hazily, his head falling back in complete surrender. "I did not allow myself... to..." he trailed away at the feel of her eager hands, seeking, roaming beneath his garment; around his shoulders, up and down his back.

"Since when?" curiosity won. "When did you know?" she bit the inside of her cheek. His skin was hot and smooth to the touch. She wondered what it would be like to feel it everywhere.

"The river..." he spoke, "...when the currents took you."

The hoarse quality of his voice caused a slickness, licking between her thighs, warm and restless. "Ever since?" Kal wondered, then remembering the confusing manner of his actions and words at the time.

"Ever since..." he slurred, "...I have known little peace," his smile faded. "I was so worried, and angry with you," he breathed onto her skin.

"The anger I remember," she said with half a smile.

"...and I tried, so much, to forget how you felt against me then." The tip of his tongue briefly grazed her skin, just above her navel. Her nails stiffened into his back. "Cold, and shivering." He looked up at her with darkened eyes. "And now, you burn."

"Your fault," she rebutted softly, descending to her knees, urging him down to her until they faced each other. He followed easily, and her searching hands found purchase at the fastenings of his tunic, fumbling, roaming across his chest, reaching around his neck.

He merely watched her with that same hunger as before, when they had collided by the sea.

She would never tire of seeing him like this, so open, his gaze lost in blissful surrender. A strong shiver ran through her, a new thrill - his closeness, his reined strength.

"Cold?" the elf asked then with a mild frown before he was tackled to the ground - a sudden, covert attack - and she was straddling him, her thighs grasping his hips, her lips a breath away from his.

He was laughing softly now in retaliation, the rare sound tickling her painful need; ever the upper hand.

"Let me go with you," Kal tried either way as she teased his parted lips. She suckled on his upper lip, softly at first. She had never tasted anything like him, and could not seem to get enough.

"No..." came the infuriating answer, and she felt his hand, heavy at the back of her neck, grasping only briefly.

"Please, you stubborn creature, I can impart with you all that I know, but you... you cannot expect to fare on your own there," yet her entreaty was swiftly smothered, and she could do little else but soften against him with abandon.

His fingers danced along her spine and he was nipping lazily at her neck, close to her ear. Before she could respond in like the elf rose with them both, holding her to him while his other hand reached to line his cloak across the sand.

Carefully lain down on her back, Kal felt the weight of him, sinking onto hers, and with it came an incredibly strong sense of relief. Almost complete.

They sat so for a while, allowing their bodies to meld against each other. She crossed her legs around his strong hips, following his dark grin. The pulse of his life beat uneasily against her chest. She breathed in, breathed out.

"This will sound trite," Legolas spoke, his gaze on her plump, reddened lower lip. He leaned and gently bit down on it, eyes closing at her soft moan. "...but I have fared on my own before, through much, much worse." It came more as an afterthought.

His words unsettled her, but their present state appeared set against such considerations. Her body spoke differently, and it was a hard task to deny it. As he was threading through her hair Kal brought her hips upward, earning a sharp, unintelligible whisper and a widened grin. She smirked, before recalling something. "Do you... do you want to... will we... do you wish to bind yourself to me?" she dared. It was difficult to keep from tugging and pulling at him, his garments. And the way he acted was telling, but knowing what she did now of elves, his steady, restrained ways surprised her little. She still very much liked how his skin was tender and his hair tickled, and Kal wriggled lightly against the hard planes of him.

She heard a hiss, and he was silent for a few blinking moments, searching her eyes. "How do you-" he breathed.

"The elf Arwen-" Kal tried speaking, feeling a hardness pressing against her lower belly, "...spoke of it."

"That was very thoughtful of her," he licked her lips, once; parted them; delved in, demanding more of her.

She tilted her hips up again, just as his hand reached and forced them down. And then his hips were hard and heavy against hers, and she could barely move.

"Slow," his smile faded, his jaw tensed. "Slow," he repeated.

Kal said nothing, watching him intently, feeling him grow even harder against her. There was a decisive light in his eyes that both riled and enticed her.

"And, yes, I would." He paused then, one corner of his lips lifting upward. "If you will have me." His smile returned, but it was wolfish as he broke their gaze and his mouth found the hollow of her neck, lingering there for a breath before leading a soft trail lower, until his nose lightly circled the tip of her breast.

"All of you..." Kal rasped.

His lips parted, closing around the hardened peak. There was a pleasant strain, reaching all the way down to her hot, aching center, then a huff of delicious warmth that dazed her a little. Her legs tightened around him.

"All of me," his arms reached beneath her; his teasing continued. "But there is no haste," the elf added, pressing the side of his face to her chest. He stilled against her.

Trapped beneath him and his need, burning and scoffing and unsure if she fully agreed, she accepted this curious choice.

Her gaze roamed to the blackness surrounding them as she ran her palms over his tense shoulders, along his arms. His strength soothed. She reached through his hair, ruffling it gently with her inquisitive fingers. Yes, a rare sight indeed, seeing him so pliable. It was not wholly unpleasant, truth be told. Certainly, it went both ways, Kal admitted as she felt a soft strand between her fingers.

And then, despite doing her utmost to find joy in him, the voiceless urge was ever there, becoming more insistent, a recurring storm disturbing a waveless sea. It intruded even on this most cherished of moments, and it became unbearable. Ever downward, seek, seek, seek...

Kal felt his taste on her tongue again, his lips suckling on hers, and a hand in her hair, bringing her back.

"I wish to see more of this land," she broke the kiss, panting lightly.

Legolas opened his eyes, tracing a forefinger over her straight nose. He watched her in askance.

"I have never been _there_," she pointed behind them, to the North, towards the mountains. "We could go together, maybe? And I can speak to you of the ... of the Tower. I can share with you all that I know." Guilt coiled within, calling her many things but she waved it away, fretful lest he could sense it.

His eyes cast a different light, but the elf appeared no less lost in her than before. "Why not?" Legolas conceded. "We could head out on a brief incursion. There are some places you have yet to see, and it would do well for you to know them."

Kal nearly sighed in her relief. "Settled, then," she tried a hasty smirk. The urge was set to rest and for that, she was thankful, despite the increasing unease at her duplicity. Then again, there may very well be nothing out there. But she would seek and find the source, and once she knew for certain, there would be peace again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Êl síla erin lû e-govaded 'wîn" = "A star shines on the hour of our meeting" (Sindarin)
> 
> PS: all the Elvish words/sentences you see in this fiction are by no means original inventions. They are drawn from realelvish dot net, a great and comprehensive source for this kind of information (they also accept donations). I try to limit the Elvish used in fics I write, and the above phrase may be familiar to many Tolkien nerds such as myself, hence its use here. Anyway it's greetings and swear words first, when learning a new language isn't it?


	39. I see you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
Just a side note. I've recently rehashed my old tumblr page: ruiniel dot tumblr dot com. It's a place I collect all Tolkien related art I enjoy. Check it out if interested to see what's there or just to connect!

Kal turned the map over again. She frowned for the hundredth time at the unfamiliar writings naming lands, mountains and waters. Her eyes locked on Legolas. "It is of course no good to attempt cajoling the Uruk-hai to pass through the Black Gate," she smiled dryly. "The guards are not as plentiful nor as vigilant as in the past, but that makes no difference. The way is shut. It is impregnable."

The elf nodded, also eyeing the map. "I have watched and scouted that place for more than I care to remember. I know." After all, he had been close to it countless times, to see the truth of all that she spoke of and more. "The Black Gate is here," he pointed on the scroll.

They sat facing each other, pouring over a map of the world Legolas had drawn from the chamber of records the community had put together, each having contributed with whatever sources of knowledge they possessed for the use of posterity.

Theirs was the only presence in the otherwise quiet, windswept cave, the mouth of which opened into the northwestern side of the isle. The space itself was, Legolas had told her, the remnant of a previously inhabited shelter in times when men of Gondor still walked Tolfalas.

The isle itself had been a royal fief, and at one moment in history was maintained and explored by a few hardy souls appointed to its care. Hence, the cave they presently occupied boasted rather straight and quite livable spaces carved into the rock and a multitude of abandoned utensils, fallen into rust with disuse. Following her voiced interest to explore more of the isle, Legolas had constructed a trail of sorts and guided Kal along the spine of the Tolfalas mountains showing her fresh paths, more of its valleys and when midday hit, he led her to the western coastline. They had reached a small, sheltered bay. And yawning towards the sea, quiet and undisturbed for many a year, was the opening to the cave.

It was close to midnight now and so they yet sat, their heads brought together, looking over the geographical elements of Mordor and its vicinity.

"Then, there is this... " Kal pointed lower on the map, along the jagged relief of the Mountains of Shadow. "We call it the Nameless Pass. However," she sighed, returning to less than pleasant memories of marching in and out of Mordor, "It is also guarded. There lies the seat of the Black Riders to the West, and the Spider's Cleft hails in the East. You have little chance of going through undetected, even with your swift and shadowy elf steps," she finished softly, casting a look of gentle teasing his way. Though they sustained she was of their race, there were things Kal thought would never truly define her. She could be rather stealthy herself when required, but this one would always best her at such skills, she thought. Her pique, however, was quickly drowned by the light in his eyes.

"What else?" Legolas asked without acknowledging her mild bite, his attention returning to the map.

Somewhat disheartened, Kal went on. "In so far as simply walking into the Black Land, there is a third way... but it is far East, as you already know, where the mountains fade into the plains of Khand-"

The elf shook his head. "That would mean crossing the entire breadth and width of the Black Land on foot. Too much time wasted, and the highest risk of being discovered."

"I agree," their eyes met. Her chest seized with worry again under his determined gaze. "Elf, please, let me come with-"

He watched her silently before slowly reaching for her, drawing her close. "You are barely free of that nightmare. This is not your battle and not your quest. I cannot ask such a thing of you, nor do I wish to."

Kal hissed and made to draw away, but he would not loosen his hold. The world melted like frost met with flame as their eyes locked. "I know words are a poor means of reassurance, but can you understand, this will not leave me be?" his features were firm, his gaze soft. "Now, I have you to return to," he reached for her hand. "And that alone is enough to keep me from taking any wild, selfish risks. Besides, in thanks to you, I have an inkling of how to better prepare. Will you attempt to believe me?"

Kal set her gaze on the small fire burning closer to the mouth of the cave. Of course, she understood. The nameless call was still forceful, ever looming in the back of her darkest thought. "Stubborn, infuriating elf," Kal balked before she gasped, the feel of fingers lightly along her ribs sending her into a stream of laughter and halfhearted kicks. "Do not-... ! I _will_ hurt you!" but she was already brought into submission, her breathy pants struggling against his chest. Memories rose of a similar encounter from their early beginnings, though its cause had been much different. At the time, his knee was at her throat.

"Will you trust me?" he gently nuzzled her nose with his as Kal squirmed beneath him.

"Release me, now," she tried to be demanding, but he felt so good right there where he was that all her protests came halfhearted at best.

"Do you wish me to... release you?" the question was clear, but its meaning went far beyond the shadow in his eyes and the soft set of his mouth.

Kal sighed in mock defeat. "No," she barely uttered before soft lips grazed hers, and oblivion had never been so sweet. She felt him along her chin, her neck, lower, until his nose pressed into her chest, and he was nipping at her through the thin linen of her tunic. He then rose to her again and claimed her mouth, hungrier than she was prepared for, but soon she was responding with such fervor and longing she had to break away for much needed air.

"Good," she felt the word breathed against her turned cheek.

Kal barely remembered the question and her answer to it, hearing only the fast beat in his chest, so angry against her own, feeling his hips, trapping her down. Whenever he did this, touched her this way, her body became so earnest and felt so unraveled, always needing more; always feeling strange and empty and incomplete.

He brushed her hair out of her face, his other hand running down her side, and Kal suddenly wished there was nothing between them. "There... there is another way," she said, trying to regain herself. She felt him go still.

Legolas lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Which is?" he asked, his pupils still wide and black as he ceased his game and aided Kal back into a sitting position.

Retrieving both the map and her better sense, she pointed to one particular spot on the yellowed scroll. "It is all but abandoned nowadays from what I remember, as the Black Land needs no great protection. What manner of fool would attempt to infiltrate it in secrecy, after all? But," and their eyes met over the map, "the drawback is, that again you would have an enormous expanse of land to cross to reach The Tower in the North." She swallowed, imagining him in such peril, the thought menacing as a blade in wait strung above her head. "It is called the Torn Cleft Pass."

The greys in his gaze were sharp, urging her to continue.

"It is located close to the southernmost river feeding into the lake Núrnen. Here, in the southeastern reaches of the Mountains of Shadow. In the past, none but the most trusted lieutenants of the Dark One knew of it, due to its tactical location in military strategy and supply. But now it is sparsely guarded, and it may prove your best chance. Its location is well hidden by the mountains growing into the Mountains of Shadow. There. I told you. Satisfied?" she bit, sighing heavily.

"Kal," the elf followed gently. She let him wrap an arm around her without protest. "Gratitude."

Kal scoffed. "An elf, striding through the plains of Núrn," she murmured, her hand running through her hair in silent distress.

"I like to think I know better, now," Legolas whispered into her with a dry smile.

"You said words do little to avail this, elf, so please... keep your peace," Kal grumbled, though he was a warm balm against her troubled state.

She heard him sigh.

"Forgive me."

"Only if you return in one piece."

"I endeavor to."

She told him all that she knew, pouring over details Legolas was asking for - what she remembered of the Tower, its levels, its layout, and numbers. Kal told him there were none too many guards, as His power was so great none dared step out of line, let alone prance around the Tower without strict orders given. Her memories would lash and darken her words, but she felt his silent support, reaching her through unseen threads.

Kal had long fallen silent, cursing the unending voice at the back of her head as she nestled into the elf. The night was rich upon the land, and the meager fire at the mouth of the cave was dying. Her lashes became heavier, and it was not long before she drifted into rest, map, and all forgotten.

Legolas had wrapped himself around her in comforting silence, allowing the rare luxury of rest to take over.

When the elf next awoke, deep into the night, she was gone.

* * *

The lone sigh of the wind was her only companion. Kal walked with fast and urgent steps, following the same ruthless pull. She had thought to swiftly inspect that which led her here, and return before Legolas awoke. If she failed in doing so before he stirred she would concoct a reason by way of justification. When her eyes had snapped open to the command yet again, the half-orc knew it was now. It had to be now.

She climbed upward around the side of the cave and followed the narrow paths between cliffs, heading ever northward. There was a thirst, a craving, ever growing, and misted shadows encroached on her mind.

It called endlessly, and her feet obeyed of their own will through the pitch-black night. Kal passed through ways sheltered by high ominous peaks and narrow vales until finally, she reached what appeared to be a cove. She skittered down towards it, seeing another recess within the stone. Another cave?

But its entrance was rectangular, clearly man-made, with its straight lines carven into stone. She stepped inside the darkness.

Her eyes discerned great stone structures with embellished writings in a script she did not understand. It was like the one she had seen written in the tome Legolas had given her to study. Her fingers slipped on the cold stone. She had faced death too many times to not have at least an inkling of what this place was. It spoke of death, but there was a quiet murmur akin to a halo surrounding it which tempered her unease. And as her searching eyes sought she knew not what, Kal noticed the first steps of stairs in one corner, leading downward. A terrible certainty flung her forward, and without thought, Kal crossed the darkened stairs one by one.

As she drew nearer to the center of the winding stone staircase, the beckoning encroaching on her will subsided, and the wisps of a foreign melody reached her. A bright light sifted and speared in rays through the black void. She drew nearer still, feeling as though she were floating, and stepping off the last stair, Kal lifted her gaze.

A gasp of awe escaped her.

A slight shimmering globe made of nothing but light, beaming in and about her, swallowing the dark. There was such greatness reaching from its endless center that Kal nearly fell to her knees, unable to gaze into the shard of light for too long lest it blinded her. It shone white, then gold, then burst into myriads of colors before returning to its silver beaming.

Though trapped in its spell, Kal suddenly felt the unsettling prickle along her spine, usually hinting at another presence. She was not alone. Her gaze shot to the eastern wall of the chamber, and she took a step back.

Leaning against the cold stone with his arms crossed at his chest, was a stranger. Speech eluded her as Kal watched him, taken with the sheer playful beams hallowing his being.

Kal shook her head, though she felt no less enraptured, all sense flown astray when the stranger stared deeply into her eyes. He was a wondrous presence, a youth basking in the light of his prime judging by his appearance. His hair was of a fiery copper, flowing in waves as shimmering spun-metal to his waist, and his golden eyes caught hers with no trace of fear nor wariness. His skin appeared imbued with sunsets she had never seen, and his garb was plain, a white unbelted tunic and trousers. He was barefooted, though far from ragged.

"Who are you? Do you live here?" she demanded, though he looked not the least bit threatening. Such restfulness and calm emanated from him, as intangible waves beating against the seams of her mind.

The copper-haired one held her gaze with a look of guileless sincerity and astonishment on his slight, handsome face. "I am you," he spoke in a light voice. "I am here because you are."

Kal narrowed her eyes, her innate suspicion brimming to the surface. "Say your meaning."

But the stranger held her amber gaze silently before his attention was turned to the brilliance of the ever sparkling shard reflected in his eyes. "Such beauty," he said in wonder, causing Kal to cast her vision upon the object and quail anew at its luminescence, its loveliness, its purity. It contained that which was long lost, the notion floated on the fringes of thought. Nearing, in an unthinking trance, Kal reached for the light. On the other side of the enclosure, the bright one watched. He watched with an inscrutable yet eager expression as her pale hands gently blocked the light, now suffusing through her fingers-

The chamber darkened, and light became a furious flame. Kal wanted to retrieve her hands but failed, her fingers clutching the brightness as urged by the shadow, and then all burst into a maelstrom of fire. _She_ was afire, her hands were embers.

The ache surpassed any cruelty ever suffered, ever remembered, reaching through her very center, flowing through her heart and blood. Kal screeched, attempting to avail herself of her own grasp, helpless against the scorching of her skin.

The Eye burned through all that she was, gaining berth until its adamant gaze broke her guard, slithering through her mind and memories, seeking, scouring. Words gained meaning, chains winding around her will, and amid her gasps, Kal still heard the triumphant edge to them.

_Where is it... where is it...?_

A straight, white smile on perfect lips.

A pale hand raising her chin. Eyes wide, she stares into herself. It reeks. Pestilence abounds, a void of light.

_I knew you would find it for me... now where ... precisely... is _ _it..._

Her thrashing struggle resounded against the walls, and Kal knew not the moment she was tumbling, falling and rolling, torn from the shadows as a wrathful beam enveloped the frayed edges of her mind.

Her eyes met startled grey ones.

_Retrieve it_._.. _the command bellowed even as Kal did her utmost to sever the tie, grasping at him, resisting the bending of her will.

Legolas was holding her still, her wrists in his grasp. "Do you realize what you could have done?" he shook her with a fervor and fear Kal had never seen on him, moving to lock her shoulders in his grasp.

_Ah..._

_That Sinda._

A pleased grin, and a hiss gurgling from unseen depths. Crimson and lifeless.

_I remember him._

"No!" Kal screeched, fighting against the incision with the remnants of her strength. She had to flee. It had not seen it all, though it had burrowed well into her mind. But then came the crushing realization of what she had encountered and felt, searing black and crimson flame.

_His_ eye cast upon them. _His_ presence.

She was shaking, unthinkingly struggling against the elf who had lifted her off the ground, attempting to hold her to him. "Let go of me! Put me _down_!" Kal fought against him, the fear and guilt too much.

"Cease struggling, look at me!" she heard the dimmed urge, and the elf tried reaching for her, fëa to fëa, but all he found was walled ice.

A well placed desperate strike to his abdomen freed Kal of his hold. With the ill command still caving in her mind, its sting coiled deep into her marrow, she struggled to stumble, staggering breathless outside in her flight.

The voice insisted, and now there was also ire and the threat of punishment. Her palms and fingers ached and burned, bright angry red from the light of the shard as Kal touched it. And she ran ever faster, uncaring of the elf, or his voice calling for her.

"Kal, your burns-" Legolas urged helplessly as he followed, seeing she went faster despite his pleas or indeed because of them; she was dashing across the path, not unlike a frightened deer of his former home.

She did not heed, needing to get away from the voice, away from the peril. She had to leave this place, and it had to be now, ere the shadow seized her again and found it. As it had all the others. It would ensnare and destroy, and drive it into the dust of memory. It was over and done with, this fool's fancy. She quickened her speed.

When after a breathless flight she was inside the mountain, Kal hurried towards her allotted chamber ensuring her wolf followed, and her lost gaze roamed left and right. She knew by now that before dawn, someone would head out to the mainland soon for the changing of sentries on watch. If she hurried, she may catch a boat and ask to leave with them. She threw a few items together amid sparse belongings, and barely heard Legolas, who had reached the chamber and was now standing in the doorway.

"Kal, what is this?" the elf asked softly though there was an urgency in his tone as he watched her throw her things into a worn leather satchel, wincing at her burns. "We must treat your hands-"

"I wish to be away from here," Kal interrupted as she finished, shouldering her bag and storming out of the chamber, followed by Eron.

She nearly ran along the hewn corridors and after a moment of confused stupor, the elf followed her. "You are wounded, and clearly unwell, if you would only wait and speak to me-"

"It is my decision. You have no say in it. No one does, none but I." She struggled to regain some of her harshness from the time serving in the army. All of this, _him_, it had turned her wanton. She had to stay grounded.

"Why?" Legolas asked curtly, his hand reaching for her arm, turning her to face him.

Kal stared away. The simplest truth, the easiest answer, was the hardest to consider._ Because I am a coward. Because I do not know what else to do. Because I now feel chains within,_ _dormant until such time as it suits._

"Why now, so suddenly?" Legolas insisted. "What precisely happened in the crypt?" he demanded lowly. "And how did you find it-"

"I wished to see more of the world either way," Kal cut into his words. "There are half truths aligned here, and I wish to be no part of this."

"You stall. Do you think me a fool, Kal?" his eyes were hard as the elf pulled her closer.

Her throat was dry. Her burns were searing. "This place was never for me," Kal said, feebly, pitifully. "They stare and keep their distance." Her eyes narrowed. "I never belonged here. I have no reason to stay," Kal broke in a stronger voice, doing her utmost to mean it.

Legolas heard her words in a haze. Though he found his feet were stone, there came a strong need to thrust her against the nearest wall, layer his heart upon hers and _show_ her. He willed it away with a shudder, releasing a short, strangled breath. "No reason," he spat. "Other than a chance to live among ones who are not torturers and killers." His words were colder, measured now.

Faced with a losing struggle, Kal mustered any reasons against it all, fickle though they were. "And you... _you_ ask me to stay, but you, too, keep _secrets_!" she showed him her reddened palms.

The elf looked down, and his face gained an air of muted dismay. "It is not something freely shared. None but very few knew the precise whereabouts of that place, let alone that which it harbors, save for myself and Arwen. And neither of us spoke to you of it. Kal-,"

"See!? Yet you do not trust me-" she groused.

"Do I not?" Legolas unthinkingly grasped her other shoulder. She recoiled from him. "I do trust you," the elf breathed. "And I trusted you with myself, despite..." he paused, wavering, unsure whether his following words would do more harm than good. Still, he said them. "... Despite knowing there are things you still hide, even from yourself."

Her astonishment was raw, as was the kindled shame at his reveal. He did not know. He felt pieces of darkness but had not seen it all. He could not _ever_ know. "I hide nothing-"

"You do, you do," the elf said, shaking his head tiredly. "You shield yourself from me, do not deny it. There are shadows that linger, but I said I would wait, did I not? Do not leave," he bid, and it was all she could do not to fall against him. "We can repel whatever this is, together."

Kal had never seen him appear so helpless and wretched. She struggled through her following words. "Together? With you gone? With you strolling through the heart of the Empire, in close quarters with Him?" she shook her head.

"I-..." Legolas fell silent, his own guilt awakening in choking hues and shades, each more bruising than the last.

"Besides, my kind and yours do not belong together. Not now, not ever. Everyone saw this, except for you. So yes, elf, in that way, you _are_ a fool." She turned from him to walk towards the harbor.

"Where is this coming from?" He was at the end of his wits. They had spoken of it all. "Our differences had never been strong enough to endanger what we share. Not for you, and surely not for me. Is this it?" his words were hissed, though he stood eerily composed. "Is this all your fear will conjure, or is there more?" he challenged.

The rippling of water against stone was the sole disturbance in the silence descended. Kal stopped walking, her fists clenched at her sides.

"What else must I do to prove myself to you?" Legolas followed. "Tell me, and I will. But do not leave. Not like this."

Kal looked briefly ahead of them to see the elf Orophin, clad and armed, and doing his utmost to busy himself with preparing a craft to head out, though she suspected he heard it all.

Turning back to Legolas, she wondered when he had gotten so close that she had to crane her neck up to meet his eyes. Kal looked into his face, that darkened gaze, its usual grey shade drowned by deep, anguished black. She reined the quiver of her lip, and whatever was roiling inside of her from pouring over. "This place is not for me," she repeated stubbornly.

Legolas looked to the side, as though his next words came spoken against his will.

"And what about you and I?"

Kal had to steel herself from reaching and smothering him in her arms, against the hurt she felt rising like a thundering storm between them. Instead, she looked to her feet - then back up at him, barring all traces of weakness from her face. "It was... pleasing, but I have grown weary of this. It is not what I want. I should have been honest with you. Forgive me."

He turned a shade paler, and she wished the world would shift and swallow her whole.

The elf watched her for another endless moment. "Why do you insist on this divide? Throwing all this filth into my face only speaks of how frightened you are. Will you not offer at least one chance, at least to try? I-"

"No!" Kal seethed, curbing his entreaty, remembering the words shared with Arwen. "We are _not_ even bound!" she threw to his widening eyes. "You aided me, I was grateful. There can be nothing else. Now off with you and leave me be!" she turned from him to blink away the wetness stinging her eyes.

Taken aback for only an instant, Legolas went after her. "You know it goes beyond that and denying such will not make it any less true. I feel _you_, your anguish, your... thought. As you do mine."

He reached for her hand, which Kal promptly retrieved with a growl. "Skai! Pushdug!" she cursed, drawing away, using Black Speech all the more since she knew he loathed it. "I cannot adhere to whatever wild notions you hold about this. For the last time, leave me be!"

The elf fell silent and merely watched her. Then he sighed, rolled back his shoulders. He made no other move to reach for her.

She felt him falling piece by piece and loathed herself all the more. Kal met his eyes and held them. "You... you have been good to me. But it is time I left, and it must be now."

His gaze lowered, and she saw a sharp, loveless smile slowly cutting across his face. If only it were a scowl, snarling, cursing - anything else.

When he spoke again, his voice was level, his eyes set beyond her.

"Orophin, take her to the mainland."

The elf then watched her a moment longer, briefly lingering on her features, his face cold and serene. When their eyes met, he nodded a brisk farewell and with that turned his back on her, his long stride leading back to the dim-lit corridor.

Once, in the early days of her training in Mordor, Kal had been slashed through her middle by a scimitar. The pain she felt now was worse and no less debilitating, stronger, and deeper with each receding step. Kal watched his fast retreating figure, still drowning in the black, widened centers of his eyes from moments ago, her mind on the soundless footsteps that drew farther and farther away.

Her vision blurred, and the image of him leaving weighed to overwhelm. Kal spun on her feet and angrily wiped her face with her sleeve, hating this depleting spell. With smitten steps, she went and climbed into the craft under the grim stare of Orophin. The elf followed with a sigh and silently sat down before her, retrieving the oars.

_He can find his own way. And I will find mine_.

Kal sat back, dragging an unwilling and mewling Eron after, curling tightly into the wolf in the narrow craft. She closed her eyes. She stilled the tremor of her shoulders, taken back to the very day she had collided with an elf in the dying forests of Ithilien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've used translations for these Mordor locations in the text, where applicable.
> 
> Nameless Pass = The Morgul Pass
> 
> Seat of the Black Riders = Minas Morgul
> 
> Spider's Cleft = Cirith Ungol
> 
> Mountains of Shadow = Ephel Dúath
> 
> Torn Cleft Pass = Nargil Pass
> 
> The crypt Kal found is a place called Imrazôr's Hallow.  
Now what could possibly have washed up on the shores of Middle-earth, from the depths of the sea?
> 
> 'Pushdug!' = 'Dungfilth!' (Black Speech, first of three translations)


	40. The road goes ever on

Together they dragged the craft to the shore once they disembarked, and Orophin led them up a winding path towards the mainland. Stealth was key, and soon the treeline thickened, heralding the edge of the wood. It was early morning, the air crisp and chill. The thick gloom of night still shrouded the land.

During their journey, there was nothing but the swaying of the craft, and the presence of the silent elf before her. It had served to temper the lengthening hollowness and the swell of crimson loss inside, if only a little. But where before the sea sang to her of beauty and hope and belonging, now it seemed to mock, crowning her dejection, and it belied another tune. The empty, even smile, the clawing at her mind. The unseen manacles digging into the depths of her. They burned. The half-orc felt uncertain and confused after the violation, as though she had never been her own. As though all notions of freedom and escape had wilted, crushed beneath His will. And now, her feet planted into wet sand at the edge of the world, she knew not what to do; or where to go.

She followed Orophin. Her eyes had dried and her hair was become disheveled from her hasty run. There was a deep, sudden, and painful tug. Not harrowing, debilitating pain, but dull and persistent. It was not unlike an unseen thread within, tightly wrapped around the center of her being. Different from the manacles of the shadow, it was not black with hate nor dripping with dormant malice. If she were to describe such a thing, it would be silvery and soft, ever lengthening with each step she took from its unknown source. It never forcefully pulled at her. It did not proffer any meaning. It was simply there. Hurting. It ached more than the sting of her burnt palms, and Kal swayed for a moment. It hurt more than the loss of light she had glimpsed in the pure, eternal shard. She could not think of him. Not now. Not yet. Kal fastened the satchel with her belongings across her body and moved forward.

Senses sharpened amidst her surroundings, her hand reaching for the wolf's hide without thought. Eron pawed his way along reluctantly, his head lowered, ever turning towards the shore. She felt his loss as keenly as she did her own.

Once they reached the edge of the forest Orophin turned towards her. Their eyes met and held. There was a salty breeze in the air, blown from the sea without.

"Gratitude," Kal worded flatly, unsure what else there was to say. He probably hated her still, having never heard a word from him nor been able to read his shuttered features. This one was light-haired also, like L-

She foiled the thought. When he said nothing, Kal bowed her head and began to walk ahead without looking back.

"I lost my brothers, to the armies of the Dark One."

Kal stopped in her tracks, her face flushing red, fearful shame tightening her chest. She hoped he could not see the taint. But if _he_ had not, then surely there was little this one could garner. She slowly turned to face the elf, expectant. Kal found she cared little for whatever scathing words he may have for her now, at their parting. She would face them, say nothing, then be on her way. They had wished for this after all, ever since a knife was placed to her throat all those weeks ago.

"I did not know." Late did the half-orc realize her mouth had opened, and words spilled forth.

Orophin looked to the left, towards the dark grey sea. His gaze settled back on her. "I hated you at first, despite all assurances from the prince that you were different."

Her hand went to her breast of its own will. The invisible tug flared, and pain came with it.

The elf watched this keenly but said nothing. "My Westron is poor," he spoke meaningfully, as though this should aid or comfort somehow.

Kal looked away from those striking elven eyes.

"You are wrong in this, half-elf."

Her eyes involuntarily cut to his in brief astonishment. Not only for his use of the term, having never heard it from any of them before, but for the sorrow she saw in his gaze. Kal blinked, then looked to the ground. "I must go." As she left Kal barely heard his last words, and wished she had not.

"You belonged."

* * *

Her aching palms were a hindrance, and she would need to wrap them over before they festered. The burns were not deep but scathing enough to give her grief for a good while. Kal tried to recall what she had come to know of herbs and their properties, hoping she could find something of use in the wilds.

She had not gotten too far before her hearing discerned a shuffle and a stir. Kal had no time to reach for her sword as a male voice cut the silence.

"Where do you think you are going?" the question sounded from somewhere above.

She paled.

A flash of dark and green, and Tadion was before her.

Kal groaned inwardly. The second to last being she could face at the moment. He had possibly been on sentry duty this night, unwilling to linger once his wounds were passably healed.

"Away from here," Kal muttered going around him, her steps sure and steady. If she kept walking he would surely tire of following her. He was bound to return either way. She could not look at him, could not behold the features so known to her. Ones which had already begun to haunt. She could not bear to hear his voice, its cadence and tone so similar to one she had listened to with such yearning during those few stolen nights by the sea. She kept walking.

No such luck, for next, she was staring into his face as the elf deftly dropped down from a tree to stand before her anew. A similar memory rekindled, of a meeting long ago in a dying forest, where an elf had startled her. They were enemies then. Kal flung the thought aside.

She forced her hands into fists, so he would not see the full extent of the burns nor wonder about then. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his.

"You might forgive my curiosity, orcling, but my brother has said nothing to me of any planned traipsing through the mainland." His gaze was searching.

Kal grimaced in a way that made him frown. "I came of my own will. I am leaving."

A dark eyebrow rose, his surprise carefully masked by a jest. "Lovers' quarrel already?"

Kal stomped ahead, deigning no response.

But Tadion was before her again, so close she nearly stumbled into him. "Last I saw you were so joyful there was nothing to blot out your irksome light. Whatever my brother said-"

"Out of my way, elf," Kal threw, now shaking and truly piqued.

He took her by the arm and the familiarity of it caused deep, sordid anger. Kal shut her eyes against the sliver of golden, fanged blackness she felt rising with it. "Release me lest you want bloodshed," Kal seethed.

He did not, his green eyes narrowing. "Are you to return?"

"No." The word slashed through the air, a sword in her throat.

Tadion appeared as though he would speak. Kal was intent on gaping somewhere beyond him, unable to look into features so known, already missed. She startled at his voice.

"You looked me in the eye, and said you would take care of him."

"I lied."

Tadion released her. "No, you did not. But now you are." He seemed at a loss, the green flicker of his eyes dulling.

Kal hesitated. "I have already said my piece to him. Draw it all from there, if you like." And she braved forward, her glance set ahead.

"It will ruin him."

The short, clipped words resounded ominously, shearing through the air as heavy blades cutting into dying underbrush.

"It will ruin _you,_" Tadion continued, nearing her again. "You are entwining. Heed me when I say, it is not something one can simply smother and walk away from. Orcling, listen,-"

She rounded on him then, at the end of her tether. "Watch me!" Kal hurled, self-loathing fueling her words all the more. She could stoop no lower. What did it matter? She declined to meet his gaze. "And you are just like your blasted brother, never knowing when to cease. I have nothing more to say to you. But this should make you glad and bursting with joy, for is it not all that you had wished for?" she bared her teeth. "For me to disappear, and be out of your lives? Sha!" Turning away in anger, she considered the use of her sword if the maddening elf kept following her. And the strongest, hardest truth to acknowledge was that unknowingly, he had been right concerning her all along.

If her words had shaken him, Tadion showed it not. Instead, he remained behind and watched her in silence, her stumbling gait darkened by the shadows of looming trees. She was riddled with grief and guilt. In her eyes he had seen his own anguish, once upon a time in a kingdom long forgotten when he lay tangled and weeping, clutching his Esteriel to him. Returned to the present with a shudder, the dark-haired elf hurriedly retrieved his steps until he reached his fellow guard Orophin. They exchanged a look, and with measured strides the former second-born prince of Eryn Galen took to the trees, intent on crossing to the hidden refuge where his brother needed him.

* * *

He found Legolas in the chamber housing records and tomes. A weak torch above bathed his stern features in unsettling lights and shadows. He was pouring over a map of Arda, following a certain path with his finger.

Tadion lingered in the doorway, observing the stiff set of the other's shoulders, the bruising shades beneath his eyes. The younger elf then recognized a dreaded and all too familiar, overwhelming sentiment. One he hated but had lived with for longer than most. He felt powerless, helpless before the signs of loss so deeply carved into the other's face. So clear and ravaging, they were nearly palpable about him.

"What is it?" Legolas asked finally as he continued to gaze thoughtfully upon the familiar expanse of lands.

"Early for strategy, is it not," Tadion finally entered the chamber properly.

A noncommittal gesture. "As good a time as any," the fair-haired elf said offhandedly.

Tadion saw his brother tracing a line across what was formerly South Gondor, then north along the Ephel Dúath. To Mordor. Fear knotted and wrenched at him.

"What is this?"

Legolas gave a brief, sidelong glance. "A way in."

Tadion hesitated. "I assume _she_ told you of it."

His brother nodded.

Deciding it was best to out with it, and that Legolas had already sensed his unrest, Tadion speared forward. "I saw her earlier in the woods, before dawn."

If his brother were still before, there was a deathly edge to him now.

"What happened?" Tadion dwelt on his silence, and the swift flash of pain marring his face before it was doused in bleakness.

"She left, obviously," Legolas answered in the end.

"Obviously," his brother chorused dryly, following the other's barely contained sigh. "And...?"

"And nothing I said could deter her."

"She was angry, seemed distraught. Did she tell you where she was headed?"

"Tadion." Their eyes met.

The younger elf did not often hear his brother call his name as he mainly did on the field of battle, commander to captain. A clear dismissal. So be it. They would speak later. But he would not be so easily dissuaded.

"When do you intend to...?" Tadion motioned at the map.

Steely grey bore into bright green. There was a defiant, regal determination in his bearing which his brother had only rarely seen in the past. It dared against any questioning or dispute. "As soon as possible."

Tadion crossed his arms at his chest. "Good. And I am going with you."


	41. Lingering

"No."

"Yes." Tadion held the other's gaze. His face was stone. "You do not get a say in this. Not now."

Legolas sighed, looking wearily to his brother. "I would not have you join me if Manwë himself bore down upon us and commanded that I do."

Tadion waved his words away with a shrug. "That would be quite a sight indeed. I do wonder what the Elder King is occupied with these days," Tadion followed wryly. And then, "I am coming, if only because a broken elf - no, please do not - " Tadion cut in as his brother opened his mouth "-on a quest to Mordor is already a death sentence in itself."

"You were always against this. You said it is folly."

Another shrug. "You were not as you are now."

Legolas stared at the map without truly seeing it. "I can order you to stay."

Tadion scoffed and smiled, shaking his head. "Truly, brother, you can. But that will do little to prevent me from following. And most of my tracking abilities I had learned from you."

Legolas covered his face with his palm. "Tadion, enough. As my second you very well know there needs to be one here adept in overseeing the comings and goings of the isle-"

"And you very well know that if the need arises, Orophin is as capable in leading a defense as any of us. And do you trust so little in master Gimli and Arwen?"

They eyed each other, neither willing to relent. Legolas looked away in the end, straightening to full height. "No, brother. And that is final."

More arguments were exchanged, each more driven than the last, and it came as little surprise to him. They had benefited from the same tutor once upon a time. Legolas felt the deep, visceral worry behind his brother's insistence. But this he could not do. He would never throw anyone, let alone his only surviving kin, in the midst of unseen peril such as this for a quest based on intuition alone. Lessons had been learned. This despite death looming as an unsure means of escape for their kind, a way for their essence to transcend into Mandos, where all fëar could dwell unhoused, unbroken, and find long overdue healing.

But there was no certainty to that happening either, not any longer.

He felt impossibly weary atop it all, and so in the end had quietened, announcing his leave with a brief frayed look and a nod. Tadion let him, but not before taking his word that they would speak again later.

His feet were of lead as the elf forced a light stride to his chamber, his mind fogged and full. Images and words roiled like unrelenting storms at sea. They cut and stung. His gait lacked the surety of earlier. He had left her there, despite feeling the anguish tearing through her poorly veiled denial. Still, she had urged him away, raising a wall between them. Ire and concern coiled inside like snakes, heavy and real.

He scowled, and a part of him seethed in dark relish; the part briefly forgetting she was so very young and unused to it all, to feeling and connection and all that changed her, him, and what was between them.

But she could have listened. She could have believed him. He had not even told her _she_ was forever. He had not dared. It would have been in poor taste, and she was clearly in so much distress and so eager to flee from him that Legolas could do nothing other than let her. At the time, a smile was the sole mask he could conjure to his loss.

When reaching his abode the elf closed the door behind him, standing motionless in the middle of the chamber. Fresh memories yet swirled about him. After a while he sought and fell gracelessly down to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. His forehead rested on them. His shoulders fell forward and closing his eyes the elf stared listlessly within, where she had been. Where she still was.

He lifted his head from oblivion and looked to his hands. There was no thought, no coherence to it all. Only silence. Her absence swelled and dwindled in tides. She lingered on his pallet. She lingered on _him_. Legolas shook his head slowly. His thrashing mind bore tall waves, and he drowned in them.

There was one question that burned amid all others. How had she found the crypt?

_What are you hiding so desperately? Why did you not trust enough? _In him, in them.

Why, why, why.

When Legolas tracked her to the very place, he found her struggling and gasping as one possessed. It was in her hands and it burnt. Shadows could not touch it without injury befalling them. For one split moment before rushing to her aid the elf had been shamed to feel a sliver of suspicion. But all the more jarring and shocking was the certainty that he would still protect and aid her no matter what she hid, and no matter what she did. And then she ran, taking the shadow with her. He had felt it, gnawing on her.

She hid it and chose to flee.

_How could you, how could you?_

He lowered his eyes. The void grew and swallowed him.

Their hair caught in the breeze. She tripped on a hidden rock in the sand, and fell against him.

She was mouthing words in his language, her golden eyes narrowed, the tip of her tongue grazing her lip in childish frustration. Her accent was frightful. The sea shivered on her skin.

When the elf opened his eyes, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

Arwen did so, clad in her grey working shift. Her hair was pulled from her face in a heavy dark braid. She went to him, and knelt before his pallet with her knees drawn up, mimicking his own position. Her expression was unreadable, but searching. A healer's habit.

Legolas placed his forehead on his knees again. "You spoke to Tadion."

"I did," she said, a hidden tremble to her voice which he did not miss. "I wanted to see how you fared."

Legolas smiled at the indulgence, for she knew most definitely how he fared. But she was not making this about her. Arwen never did.

"You let her go," the words were bared of any accusation but struck the same.

He could not make her stay, either. He lifted his head, eyes pressed tightly shut. He opened them to look upon her slight and saddened features. "One's will is their own."

Arwen reached for him, her slender fingers soft and caring. Her nails were green from work with mortar and pestle and her skin scented with herbs. Her thumb wiped away each shimmering line streaking his face.

He smiled gratefully. "I will live, just as Tadion has. Just as you have. Loss becomes a part of us."

Arwen retrieved her hands, circling her knees with a sigh. "And you believe this is comparable? She yet breathes, and is free."

"And would not have me."

Arwen smiled, the whisper of a grey dawn. "Her mind would not."

Legolas leaned back to rest upon the pallet. "I found her in the crypt, Arwen. She had wanted to see more of the mountains. But I found her _there_."

The elf maid was silent, watching him until he deemed to speak again. "I do not know how she found it for she would not say. She had taken the gem in hand, though I know not why. It all began there. I felt the disruption. I felt the barrier lessen. And," he covered his tired face with his hand, "she was hiding its source from me. I fear she left for reasons I will never know. But once she was gone, all fell back in place."

Arwen was thoughtful. "I felt it so. Do you... think she...-"

"No," the elf cut into her words, so vehemently he felt immediate remorse. "No," he repeated softly. "There was no ill will about her. I felt none. But that which she was hiding, that may be a different matter."

"Does Tadion know?" Arwen asked.

He shook his head.

The elf maid nodded. "It is better this way."

It was his turn to nod in agreement. They stood in silence for a long time.

"You will not seek for her, then?" Arwen hedged in the end. "If only to see what-"

Legolas shook his head. "She wants to be on her own. I will respect her decision."

"Legolas..."

"Arwen, please," the elf spoke raggedly, covering his face with his hands.

"My friend," she offered a sad smile, reminiscent of brighter days. "This is not my tale-"

"You are right it is not," he snapped, feeling the miser immediately. He sighed. "Forgive me."

Arwen bowed her head in silent understanding. "-but I wish you would reconsider."

Legolas looked away. "I am heading out again, soon."

At that, her composure seemed to crumble. "Your brother spoke of it as well." This, however, she could not attempt to sway, and so kept her peace.

It was then Legolas noticed what his friend had produced and held in her hands. Its green sheen reminded him of better days, and a wave of joy mingled with grief nearly had him overflowing.

"This is unwise. I nearly lost it last time."

Arwen took one of his hands, opened it, and placed the jewel in his palm. She closed his fingers around it with both hands and kept them there. "And yet, it seems to bring you good fortune, does it not?" She recalled how Legolas had told her of his escape from the Uruk captivity, and its role in it. Her smile was genuine and glad. "You returned to us hale. Do so again."

The elf shook his head lightly, staring at the _elessar_ he again held in his hand. The vision of confused amber eyes floated on the fringes of his mind, and he nearly fell again.

He felt a palm, gentle on the crown of his head, and then he was falling into a light embrace.

"Find me later?" Arwen murmured after what seemed like an eternity, releasing him.

A slight bow of his head was her only reply. The elf maid rose and was gone, leaving her friend to his solitude.

Legolas stayed where he was, allowing the jewel to dangle from his hand. He stared back into the aching void.

_Are you well? Are you safe? _He could let her be. He could allow this severance, and weather the waning, if she could. But he had to know. He willed all his thought and care and longing to pierce through the ether, over dark waters of fears and endless lands of failing dreams. To her.

No response. He gained his feet, looking about the chamber, gathering belongings. Some would accompany him on his journey. Amid it all the elf tried again, and again.

As he roamed through his wares an object caught his eye. Without thought, the elf reached for the slight pouch. He gaped at the golden sheen trickling into his palm. With a sigh, he considered returning Tadion's gift. But then, he thought, it may aid little, and would only rekindle his brother's own grief.

At a loss and with the waves of her, wailing and relentless against the shores of his mind, the elf reached for the jewel. After a moment of hesitation, he looped the rings around the same chain and fastened it around his neck. It came tucked safely under his shirt. He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the cold metal warming from his skin.

Legolas recalled her irresolute and childish attempt to keep the jewel from him, once upon a time. He had been faster, and she had lost.

The torrent within welled. He rushed it away, seeking her instead.

_Are you well? Are you safe?_


	42. New horizons

The nightmares returned. But now other memories found their way between black adamant walls and pyres for eyes, hailing new shadows and feeding withering remorse. There was a rush of foaming water that doused the flames, and hands gentle and caring soothed her burning skin. Salt was in her hair. Salt was on his lips as he pressed them to her forehead, her mouth, the hollow of her neck.

Kal awoke curled on her side, aching, thinking she heard his voice so vividly she even rose suddenly and looked about herself. In a way, she wished she could turn her head and find him there, as elusive as ever was his wont. All those times she would start at his sudden appearance, descended from the hidden boughs of a tree or the shadows of the wood. Kal slumped forward, pressing her knuckles into her eyes, shedding the slumber from them.

She felt the same tug yet again, meandering towards her as though carried by the sea-winds. _It was your choice. No use floundering._ She turned her head, and saw the wolf watching her in silence sat on his hind legs. He had fallen asleep at her side. Kal reached and stroked his fur, his ears, and eventually threw her arms around Eron, her face buried in warm fur. "I am sorry, I am sorry," she croaked, her chest jolting once before she ordered herself to stillness, "It had to be done."

The wolf nudged the side of her neck with his nose rather insistently, and then Kal sensed a tension in him. She sharpened her hearing, rising slowly from her place. Her hand came flat upon the ground, and the disturbance materialized into the pacing of heavy footfalls. She rose to stand and urged the wolf follow, hiding in a dark thicket as the sound grew nearer. It was not long before voices were heard, and her unease increased. Kal then noticed she had stopped to rest not far from a dirt road of sorts, beaten with the traffic of wheels, the sounds of which could be heard now drawing nearer.

Her covert position allowed for an unobstructed view of the road, and soon a smell she loathed reached her, accompanied by sharp shrieks and low grumbling. She saw Men and Uruk-hai. She saw wagons carrying goods, both animate and inanimate. There were beasts of burden pulling the carts forward.

"Move, you bumbling fool," one of the men whipped at the beasts, before turning to another with an exasperated hiss. "At this pace, it'll be nighttime when we reach sodding Pelargir," he complained.

_Pelargir_. As she watched them pass, Kal remembered what Legolas had told her of the once-great city of the realm of Gondor, where the royal fleet was housed. How it had been built by great Men of old, and in time was become a safe place for ones escaping the drowning of their old realm into the sea. It was a large harbor settlement, and Kal had seen the great black ships with her own eyes when she first came this way with Legolas.

The thought of him brought it all crashing into her again, and her wounded hands stung with renewed fervor. Now that her initial fright lessened and a night had passed, Kal found she could allot some thought to what had actually happened that night. The shard and its light, the vision of beauty in his white garb and simple cloth_._

_I am you_.

Kal shuddered, rising from her spot when the road became silent again. Dust swirled in the wake of men and beasts treading over it. Deeper into the forest she went, keeping the road within sight and setting her focus on finding the herb needed to aid with her burns. She recalled the words of the elf Arwen during one of their meetings. She had called the plant _athelas_, and had shown its like to Kal. She crossed the road and went closer to the great river, continuing her search.

After hours her endeavor was yet fruitless, and the pain in her palms a discomfort Kal was slowly but surely resigning herself to. Again, thoughts emerged of how the Shadow had taken her thought and will, as did its command. From what Kal could discern now by the way it had scoured her thoughts and mind, it apparently coveted the burning shard of light. Kal dared not think of what He knew of her now, nor of how He had led her to the very place of his interest. Perhaps, He sensed its whereabouts, but knew not its exact location?

_Nor will you, _Kal thought grimly and with finality. Whatever the Shadow needed, it would have no way of finding it through her any longer. She would ensure it. She would pass through to the farthest, iciest corners of Middle-earth if she must, far away from anything of interest for His scheming. If indeed it had been Him, though the imagery and familiar aura of power had been unmistakable. It was the same kind shrouding the Tower, the one she and others bore during their tenure behind its gates. The unconfirmed conclusion and black certainty of it also held a deeper misery, again reminding her why a life in Tolfalas would never have been possible. Why _they _would never have been possible.

Kal stopped, her eyes sighting a leaf of familiar shape and coloring. She crouched down near the wolf who had reached her in the meantime, and with the use of her stiff fingers took of the sought-for remedy, taking care not to squeeze too much as she had need of its thick sap. She then crossed over to the river and dipped her hands in cold water to wash them for lack of other options. Her thoughts returned and cleaved towards the recent events.

_What_ was that piece of clear, hard stone trapping fire and light? Its power was surely great, for it to be so hidden and sought for. Its shape as she recalled had been even, as though crafted from the hands of one skilled in such. And then, an odd memory struck her. Legolas had said to her once, that the isle was protected by more than the caution of its inhabitants. His own reaction and distress when he had seen her with the stone in hand now came in a different light. And his words.

_Do you realize what you could have done?_

Of course, at the time, her main struggle and power had been bent on leaving and her hasty deflection of him, and so there was little left to dwell on the facets of it.

But his eyes had seen straight through her, poorly knit lies and all. She had felt him, with his disappointment and his longing, and all that angry confusion. But he did as she wished in the end, and she should be thankful for it. Would he hate her now, as he had before? It mattered not either way, though the possibility chilled her to the bone. At least, Kal thought, she would never again have to look into his face, and see what she had seen that night.

Yes, it would have to be someplace far, far away. Kal rummaged through her satchel and retrieved a cloth, ripping it into pieces. She spread the sap from the athelas leaves over her palms and wrapped her hands over with the cloth, wincing from discomfort. She looked ahead, beyond the river, and sighed.

The eye, the pain, and that smile. It still iced her to the core, and would not fade from her mind, and Kal thought fretfully ahead to the coming night. In more recent times, when he was there, his light had aided in dispelling the nether and her nights had been more restful.

_Gone now. Cease your sniveling. _She battled her thoughts all through the rest of the day as she walked, stopping for nothing, eating nothing.

When evening fell Kal looked to the river again and saw the first ships moored at different points along the bank. As she went nearer, they grew in number and size. Drawing closer as led by her rising interest Kal observed a bridge she had not seen before, strung across the murky waters and leading to the opposite bank. She saw the grey towers and blackened buildings of the harbor settlement Pelargir, which she and the elf had previously passed on their way to the isle.

More vessels danced languidly on grim waters, in strange congruence with her thoughts.

_To the farthest corners of Middle-earth..._ How else to achieve such a goal, if not by traveling on water? The world was wide and large enough, and surely there were lands she could flee to, well away from this place. But she had no coin, meaning a great disadvantage as cities of the fallen empires yet were ruled by Men, vassals of the Dark One who thrived on it. Her knowledge of Black Speech would aid in mingling with them, she hoped, and perhaps if luck would have it, she could obtain a place on one of the vessels as a worker. There was nothing left but to try. Her mind made, Kal urged the wolf to follow and departed the vicinity of the river in favor of the road leading to the city.

When she reached the great stone and metal bridge, Kal found it surprisingly empty, considering the size of the settlement and its dealings. Like any port city, Pelargir had been bustling with activity about its harbors from what she had witnessed before.

Kal crossed the bridge and onto a stone cobbled road, and soon the fringes of the settlement greeted her. There were stone houses and many narrow streets, dirtied and reeking of human waste. The walls of the crooked buildings were all streaked with reddish-yellow stains of rusty rain. Kal saw Men, dark-skinned and wearing black flowing garments, coiled helms adorning their heads. Others were pale-skinned with their eyes heavily painted in black, and garbed similarly, carrying strange wide blades with curved tips. She saw Easterlings, with their black and blue-tinted war tattoos. There was an Uruk here or there, but Kal saw no orcs though that was to be expected, as those needed the cover of darkness to roam. Kal buried her fingers into the fur of her wolf. "Be on your guard, keep your distance," she spoke, though more to herself. Many of the inhabitants went on their hurried way, and Kal saw a patrol as well. The same ones used in Mordor, their black armor and crimson capes trailing about them.

She sought the harbor area but knew not where to go. Warily taking a more hidden path and avoiding the patrol Kal entered the city proper, hoping to find her way to the ships in an attempt to fulfill her plan. Evening had descended by the time she reached a dirtied, crumbling square, and heard hissed ramblings and indistinct voices. They were harsh and male, and Kal heard multiple steps drawing nigh. Wariness again took hold as she began looking for a sheltered place of refuge, but there was only stone and metal, and no darkened spaces to fit both her and Eron. Her still aching hand gripped the hilt of her sword, just as the voices drew close enough that she could see what was attached to them.

There were six of them, all heading her way. Their dark eyes were glazed and hungry, their long dark hair painted in blues and braided intricately with varying types of bones. They wore the garb of mercenaries, and the flaming eye was etched into their mangled left cheek. Men of the Tower, all of them. Their steps were faltering strangely, and Kal could sense the thick, pungent smell of alcohol about them. It reminded her of the reek of the Alchemists' lair, having been an integral ingredient for their concoctions.

"Look, boys, a lost un'," one of them spotted Kal, who began pacing backward and away. "What's a lone young thing like you doin' here in our fair city, looking so bewildered, ey? Mayhaps we might be of help?" his eyes were narrowed.

The obvious malicious intent made her swallow, and she heard Eron begin to growl beside her. "Stand down," she hissed to the wolf. Then, Kal mustered all her courage and spoke in Black Speech, hoping it would deter them. "I have no dealings with you. Be off and leave me be," she said even as the others were nearing her, all smiles and toothed predatory stares.

The one who spoke first went quiet, but not for long. He looked upon her with a near fatherly mien. "No need to be snide," he retorted swiftly with false kindness, also in Black Speech. "As for the nature of dealings... I am sure both my men and I can provide a few suggestions," his smile became foul, "whether you think it or not." He motioned to two others who drew their curved blades.

Kal brandished her own weapon then, cursing her lack of precaution. Her time on the isle had made her weaker indeed if her sense of peril was now so numbed that she had not sensed this threat sooner.

Eron was now growling and baring his teeth, coiled at her side, and ready to pounce. They surrounded her, and her mind desperately considered the best way to cut her way through them. Coming here had not been the wisest of decisions, not at all. But there was nothing to do against it now.

Grinning, their leader ran towards her, his blade drawn. It fell upon hers with a deafening hiss but Kal repelled him, gritting her teeth at the pain in her hands.

Another blade swung behind her and she ducked in time, turning and employing her full strength in throwing herself at her opponent. They both fell to the ground and rising Kal slit one's throat, whirling to meet another blade. They were angered now, and as she fought against two blades Kal saw the wolf making a bloody mess of another foe, fallen somewhere to her right.

"Kill the damned beast!" their leader hissed.

"You will _not_ touch my wolf, filth!" Kal growled lowly as she repelled another attack, then another, until a blow to the back of her head caused her to fall to one knee, dazed. Her grip weakened on her sword, and she felt a cold narrow blade sing at her throat. Someone had gripped her hair, and Kal was soon thrown with her face into the dust, a boot pressing harshly into her back. Her hair was in an unrelenting grip, pulled back so hard her eyes watered. A panting voice was in her ear. "Now, you will pay in kind for the companions you and yer stinking beast maimed-"

He did not finish his thought, and Kal felt the grip on her head lessening. She wasted no time freeing herself at the opportunity and turning saw her attacker on his knees, clutching at his neck to no avail. There was a black rope of sorts coiled around it, and before her eyes there was a sharp pull. His neck snapped, and the human fell forward limp and lifeless.

"Now, does anyone else think they need the treatment?" a new, hard voice began.

Kal blinked to see the coiling rope was actually a whip and said whip was attached to a living person. He wore black leathers and a dusty cloak and deftly coiled his unusual weapon back at his hip. Kal saw an eye patch adorning the left side of his face.

The ones who were yet alive blundered over each other to be out of his sight, mouthing curses and eyeing Kal with hateful looks.

Eron had returned to her side, his maw dripping bloody red. His eyes were still narrowed and his snarling never ceased. Kal attempted to calm him while regarding the stranger with confused suspicion. Alone as they now were, he was looking her way across from two dead bodies.

"Well met, stranger. Though, I see you have had a welcoming taste of Pelargir already," he motioned to the fallen humans and smiled.

Kal still gripped her sword, and nothing could appease Eron, it seemed. "I only wish to be left alone," she offered in Westron, looking about herself.

The stranger crossed his arms, tilting his head to one side. To Kal, he appeared not unlike the vultures she had seen circling the fields of Núrn in the early days of her youth. They would wait and come down to feast upon any unfortunates beaten to death during their rounds. His hair was dark and tumbling over his shoulders, and he was young for a human, lest her eyes deceived her. "Your wish I can freely grant, but," he made a gesture towards the fallen men, "I doubt the wisdom of it, as I am sure you do. Or should, in any case." His face was terse now, gaining a solemn air.

"None of your business," Kal returned, though she had to admit it rang true. And he did aid her. "Why did you intervene?"

The dark-haired stranger made an impatient sound with his tongue. "Because you needed it?" he said, as though looking upon one who was soft in the head. "Now, I do not know about you, dear traveler, but I, for one, am both weary and famished," he drawled. "I was heading to the inn around the corner for a meal," he eyed her. Then as a second thought, he added, "Unless... that is, unless you prefer to spend your night avoiding brigands, you are most welcome to join."

Kal gnashed her teeth, still struggling to temper the wolf. Its behavior was strange, to say the least, now that danger had passed. And again, she was at a standstill. She knew no one here, and this one appeared to belong here well enough, though that fact rather unsettled her. His face showed no hidden crevices of foulness, but one could never be sure. His unsought for kindness also added to her brimming suspicion. As such, his opportune aid was the sole argument in favor of her following decision, but it proved a strong one. And she was hungry, she was tired. "Are you always so kind to mere strangers? What if I hurt you, and steal your wares?"

His shoulders shook with laughter, making him appear younger than his years. "Oh, I believe you have seen I can hold my own well enough. And worry not, I am well aware of your growling pet, and have seen some of your skill. Now, my offer only stands this one time, for I am getting rather hungry." He added with a smile Kal found unnerving.

She hesitated, but in the end, approached the stranger.

He appeared somewhat pleased by this direction and development, and Kal again thought of the vultures. "Ah, wonderful. Now that we are agreed, may I inquire as to your name?" the black-haired stranger asked as they fell in step together.

His manner of speech was unusual, but Kal settled for adding it to the long list of things she did not know of the outside world and its peoples. Eron was yet struggling and growling, and she had to fall to her knees and firmly grasp his head, looking him in the eye. "Enough. It is over. Please." And she attempted to use her thought in reaching him, just as Legolas had shown her once. She brought her head to his and soon enough the wolf went quiet, reduced to a low incessant mewl. Kal rose then and met the gaze of the human who had been watching her. "I am Kal."

A bright smile made its way onto his even features, the corners of his foreign black eye crinkling slightly. Kal saw his skin was an interesting shade of burnt amber. "A pleasure to meet you, young Kal. My name, is Castamir."


	43. Stay the course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a wily one to complete. Be aware of the usual angst and violence - I know some of us read fan fiction to escape into a better world, and this has never been a light, feel-good concept for a story. But there will be hope (spread thin at times), and there will be a resolution.
> 
> We're headed into more obvious crossover territory with this update, as there will be elements from another work by JRR Tolkien.
> 
> Thank you to all who still read/follow this.

Waves broke and lapped languidly at the shore, snaking around his booted feet. He stood alone, eyes closed to the wind that lashed at his face, and lifted his pale hair in the chilly breeze. In passing, the elf thought back to the day they had reached this island, hurting and weary, thinking it barren. But here of all places in Middle-earth, they found a first moment of respite and time to mourn.

The elf turned slowly to look over the mountainous spine of the isle, rising jagged and tall against the sky like the scales of a great stone dragon. Legolas recalled another day, himself walking by the windswept sea with the daughter of Elrond Half-elven under a red sunset; he had ceased his steps, gazing to the distant West and late had heard her gasp of awe.

Upon reaching her, the elf saw her fair face; her fallen features lifting in wonder as Arwen Undómiel continued to look down at her feet. They had both stared mutely at the sight, taken by the gleaming facet of what appeared to be a large gemstone. Sunken into the sand, half-concealed by seaweed.

Arwen had reached for it despite his urging to the opposite, her eyes a brighter shade of silver.

And even now he felt the strong tonal waves that had risen from the Song streaming on the waters, surging around them like a shield, lifting into the ether.

The daughter of Elrond held the stone in her small hands, and it glowed all the brighter and warmer against her pale, near translucent skin. As if it knew her.

He knew the tales of great deeds, the bloodshed of the past, and the oaths of the First Age. There was no plausible answer as to why a gem wrought with such otherworldly skill lay there abandoned in the sand of a forgotten island. It captured a light much denser, much stronger than the one long faded from the earth, and the elf could not help but think back to another tale; that of a triad of gems - and their theft by the Enemy that long ago had indirectly caused many vicious, world-altering wars. It was absurd to even fathom the possibility that this object, encasing such light within its hard shell, could be a grand work of legend.

A piece of half-forgotten lore meandered through his thoughts.

_One in the sky, one beneath the earth._

_One lost to the sea._

At first, they did not trust in such notions of myth, not after the crushing defeat of the West at the time. But then came the dreams, and the visions and the memories the daughter of Elrond awoke from and could not seem to shed, night after night: a sleek, blue ship coated with thin frost, hallowed by starlight, bearing one such star whose light resembled their find. The bright, smiling eyes of a tall, golden-haired sailor, so alike her father in bearing, and a great white bird flying into someone's arms. Two majestic trees, tall and strong, their boughs golden and silver. They pierced the skies with a light so pure it sent the shadows quailing in the far corners of the world. In the end, the trees always bled deep red upon three jewels until their great trunks all but shriveled, and they died.

Arwen had been much dismayed when she told him of it, and a hard resolution came upon them - to preserve the gem, to shelter it.

For a long while, they pondered on the purpose of such an unexpected find and saw none. At last, they decided upon depositing the stone with its blinding light in a safe place. It had been too distracting, and in its proximity, their minds were ever charged with images and tales of the past. And ever since, no threat nor peril had come upon the isle. Ships never moored here. Raids never came. From afar, no eyes were set on this place, in all the long years that the Shadow scraped its claws over the world. It could all be mere chance or a great stroke of luck. It could be their minds, looking in desperation for any sign of the divine, hoping they were not forgotten.

And then, again, the events of a more recent night unfolded in his mind as the elf crossed his arms, and thought of _her_.

Her flailing limbs, those anguished shrieks. The way she struggled against him as though he were a foe. He reflected on her eagerness to travel into the mountains, her finding of the grave, her sudden departure - a clearly deliberate act, driven by fear. Her hasty lies and frenzied resolution to flee raked him raw.

_It must be now, _her failing voice rang in his ears.

There rose again his doubt, fringing the edges of his misery. In all else, she had been honest - with her heart, her bare desire, her wish to become more. As before, he discarded suspicions of fell master plans or grand designs, and of this young spirit come from nothing being a tool in their making.

But it would not let him be.

The elf watched the sky, streaked in hues of bluish grey, and wondered what would become of them all. Lost in his thoughts, he then sensed another presence and looked to his left. There was his brother, approaching him like a proud shadow drifting on the bone-white sand.

Legolas thought back to his absent friends, and their Quest, once upon a time; the early days of their fellowship, formed before the age of shadow. As his memory drifted to the land of Mordor, he thought of Frodo and Sam; braver than any of them, having fought to reach the Black Land on their own - and never heard from again. He thought back to Aragorn, lying in the midst of battle far from his banner as the Nazgûl soared above them, and the wings of their beasts stirred deceiving blasts of dust that stung their eyes.

He gazed at the foam fringed water sluicing around his legs. Moments passed. Tadion had reached him and was now standing by his side, quiet and still.

"Did master Gimli agree to oversee the shelter in our absence?" came the question.

Legolas nodded, a dry smile on his lips. "He does not have much choice against the stubbornness of elves. His words."

Tadion swept a wayward dark strand out of his face. "That I can agree upon," he said meaningfully. "Towards the Harad Road, then?"

His smile fell. They had debated the route to Mordor the previous night, seated at a secluded table in the eating area with Arwen and Gimli the dwarf. And under the quiet, grieved gaze of Arwen, Tadion again plowed ahead with tenacity, declaring that he would join his brother on his futile journey, and Legolas was mad if he thought his princely airs - no matter how effective in most other situations - would deter him.

Troubled and weary, Legolas had relented. But now, faced with a new day, and with thoughts and images of the Tower emerging, he regretted the concession. "You do not have to do this," he said, gazing sideways at Tadion.

"I want to," came the rigid words.

Legolas turned his head, and the two brothers stared at each other, steely grey cutting into green. In the silence, both heard the call of the sea that drew them, and their longing for the West sang on its waves.

"We travel on foot," the older elf spoke in a low voice, looking away.

"Of course."

"Ever on watch, ever on guard."

Tadion ran a hand through his hair, inhaling the fresh salt air. "Well, some good news. This way, my days will not be entirely uprooted. I _am_ a creature of habit, as you know."

Legolas glanced at his brother shortly. He shook his head, mildly vexed, but he could not rein a smirk. "At times, you can still be such a child." And though he would never admit it aloud nowadays, these tedious deflections unwound him more often than not.

"Glad to see you are smiling," Tadion quipped, "at the folly of these feeble attempts to dissuade me, no doubt." He watched Legolas shiftily, his green eyes narrowing. "You want me to come. It kills you to even think it, to admit it to yourself. But you do."

"We cut East, straight through the Harad Road," Legolas ignored him and returned to the initial question. "We follow along the Ephel Dúath until we reach the pass. Pray it is as unguarded as we think."

"Provided you trust in what she told you."

Legolas watched the rise and swell of a great wave in the distance. "I do."

Tadion kept his peace and began a slow walk along the sanded beach. His brother followed.

"Have you tried reaching her at all?" Tadion asked, his voice softer, doubtful.

He had, countless times. "She does not open herself to me. I doubt she even knows how." Or that she wished it. His attempts were all met with stony silence, but she was alive. That much he would always know.

He felt a hand gripping his shoulder. Without turning, he knew Tadion's eyes were dark with concern and deep understanding. Legolas then knew the tentative reach of a kindred fëa and allowed his brother's care to comfort his own frayed edges. "Enough," he said abruptly after a short while, shuttering himself. The threads inside were too bruised and tangled - not least the one unraveling into the unknown, weaved with another.

Tadion dropped his hand, and merely stood there in continued, quiet support.

Looking ahead, the two siblings began an ascent back to the dwelling inside the mountain. They climbed the rocky path together, their wayward thoughts trailing behind them in silence.

* * *

"What is this place called?" Kal asked as she glanced left and right, her eyes roaming over the details of the grimy cobbled street. The city of Pelargir did not appear very crowded at this hour. More buildings hailed before her, austere and foreboding. Yellow light gleamed through a barred window here and there, and they passed through many narrow streets where the stench of human waste blended with that of rust and smoke.

"We are heading to the illustrious Cat's Eye inn," answered Castamir, "a place of vast renown and notorious reputation in the area, but then most of them are," the man added with a grin, looking beyond his shoulder at Kal who followed trailed by her wolf. "There will be food, and there will be drink. That is what matters."

"Will there also be trouble?" Kal asked with a raised eyebrow, still recovering from the recent brawl. Her body ached and her limbs felt sore. The burn wounds on her hands proved a greater nuisance than before.

"None that we will invite. But you offer a good point," he turned to regard Kal thoughtfully. "There should be no great cause for worry, however- many of the usual customers are still seeing to their duties, no doubt."

Unconvinced but seeing no better choice and unwilling to spend another moment alone on these foreign streets, Kal fell silent, falling in step with the dark-haired human in time to see the curl of his lip. She absently noted he was a head taller than her. Warily, she then observed the folk crossing their path from time to time. She saw women rushing by, garbed in long flowing skirts and carrying sacks or whittle baskets, and small children with dirty cheeks clutched at their skirts. She saw men, some advancing on foot, others on horseback. There were places that sold different wares, and there were beggars in shady, angled corners. She too looked a sorry state, she was sure of it - if the stares received were anything to go by. Her stomach saw fit to complain as well, grumbling angrily, and her eyes felt swollen with fatigue.

Their destination proved to be a long building with three floors, lined with many flickering windows. A facade of black timber was layered over what had once been white stone. They crossed beyond a great metal gate into a wide courtyard where Kal saw risen stables to one side. A few loud-mouthed Men hovered before the dark door of the building, now left ajar.

Ignoring the glares and their glowering, Kal walked inside, keeping the wolf close. She came to a large hall where the smoke was so dense and sickening her eyes stung, and she coughed, reminded of the smog rising around the Tower in the Black Land.

Castamir urged her onward as they crossed the noisy, crowded space. There were long wooden tables arrayed across the place, but many customers stood with foaming tankards in their hands, and she could hear raucous laughter from many corners. She spotted humans of all shapes and sizes, mostly men, but there were a few women as well. Some of them bore armor and weapons, others were clad in leathers or cloth following the custom of their lands. As Pelargir was a thriving port city, there was much diversity to be found. There were Easterlings, Haradrim, and Variags from faraway Khand aside from men of the former Western kingdom. Many wore the garb of sailors, mercenaries, or merchants. A lot of those gathered were also in different stages of inebriation, and the stench of alcohol wafted towards Kal in nauseous fumes.

"This should do," Castamir said as he took his place at one table, urging Kal to do the same.

She sat down cautiously, beckoning for Eron to lie at her feet. She eyed the human from across the table. "I have no coin."

Castamir then laughed softly, watching her with his sharp eye. "Which I assume is the reason for your coming to Pelargir? For coin?"

Kal said nothing, regarding him with obvious distrust as Castamir rose to his feet again. "Wait here," he urged.

And she watched him head towards a boarded counter set at the center of the long hall where a large man with a dirtied apron stood and poured drinks. Castamir returned bearing two metal tankards filled with frothing ale and placed one before Kal.

She looked at him in question as another smile cut across his face.

"Ale, the best kind of nourishment," he said and as if to prove a point, lifted the tankard to his lips and drank heartily.

Kal eyed her beverage critically, then looked back into his face. "I have not had it before."

"All the more reason to try it, yes?" Castamir retorted, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

She narrowed her eyes on him, but he appeared at ease, leaning back in his chair. He looked young by human reckoning and his beardless face was smooth, his eye keen and searching.

"So, no coin, and you are not from here. There might be places for you to find some work in the city," he threw her an odd glance, "but their nature might not be what you had in mind..." he trailed off, uncertain.

"I am not in search of work here," Kal snapped. "I will leave this place as soon as I can."

The human seemed puzzled for a moment. "Leave... oh," his shrewd eye narrowed as he pointed a finger at her, still smiling. "A ship, then," he tilted his head in that vulture-like manner again. "Well, that leads you back to the matter of coin. I am afraid you cannot achieve much in that direction without it, either. Even as a worker, you must pay for passage," he finished, taking another swig of ale.

Lead fell upon her mood. "I see." _But I cannot fail, not in this._ "Is there no other way?" Kal asked, her suspicion giving way to anguish.

Castamir sighed, looking to his hand, and was about to reply when Kal felt a sudden jerk of her shoulder, and before she knew it Eron was growling, and she found herself dazed and fallen onto the floor next to her upturned chair.

"A new one!" A broad-shouldered man with a jaw the size of an anvil was staring her down, his reddened eyes blurred by drink. He turned to three others, who watched, jeering him on. "Prancing in 'ere - wait, you're not from the whorehouse! How much is her worth?" he asked looking to Castamir, then back to Kal. "Looks different too, and young, willing to pay more for that," he added smugly, flashing a row of golden teeth.

Kal rose to her feet, standing tall and angry, but also brimming with unrest. She motioned for the wolf to stand down. It was the second time this day. It was enough. "Touch me and die," she hissed, her hand gripping the Gondorian blade at her hip.

Blotched, purple anger swelled on the man's heavily tattooed face, and his comrades fell silent behind him.

Then they all broke into a fit of barking laughter.

"Now, now, Borlach," she heard Castamir's even voice as she stared the other man down. "She is not what you think."

"Stay out of this!" the one called Borlach spewed, eyeing Kal from head to toe.

"There is plenty of merriment to be found in the usual places," Castamir insisted. "You will see this one may not meet your tastes, or be worth your while."

His words had been steel, but Kal barely heard them over the bloodlust pounding in her ears.

"I'll be the judge of that," the drunken man hurtled, "And I _like_ this one. Maybe I _teach_ her," he reached and gripped Kal by the arm, pulling her to him with a glint in his eyes that bode ill.

Kal glared at the drunken fool, her nostrils flaring. She felt as wound as twisted iron. She had been demeaned by ones such as him, ones _worse_ than him, all her life.

_No more._

But before she could retaliate, a strong amber hand was placed on the man's forearm.

"A wager," Castamir spoke, looking from the man to Kal. "You best her in a fight, and you get to do what you will," he looked the incensed human over. "She defeats you, and you part with your coin," he jerked his chin towards the small pouch fastened at the drunk's belt.

"I said keep yer stinking nose out of this, corsair! Your sway only goes so far. I can_ already_ do what I want. Not for nothing, all fear my name in this rot of a city," Borlach growled, striking a fist to his leather-clad chest, and for good measure seized a snarling Kal tighter, who shrugged out of his hold with a growl.

"Indeed," Castamir sustained, undeterred, "But where is the sport in that?" And he turned to the drinking hall, bellowing in his steady, vigorous voice, "Does anyone here object to a good match?"

Roars and cackles of approval came from all around, and many were already placing bets, and the spilling of coins could be heard. The stranger was looking at Kal with a nasty grin, his eyes roaming over her lithe frame and narrow shoulders, her thin muscles.

Castamir turned to regard the warrior with a placating mien. "It appears you have an audience," he said as Kal rushed forward and caught him by the arm.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "I did not come here to draw attention to myself!"

Castamir lowered his voice and spoke swiftly. "You said you had no coin - which is precisely what you need to get on that ship of yours. You know you can beat him, I have seen you fight. Do this for your own benefit. And look at him," he added, "I see no other choice now. Trust when I say, that he is not one to leave you be."

Kal released him roughly. His words appeared to make sense in a strange, twisted sort of way. She turned her head resolutely to her would-be opponent and took a deep breath.

"Afraid, are ya?" the other taunted as his mates clamored behind him, and he began spitting a host of things he would do to her, and how he would put her to work, and what parts he would use most.

Kal removed her sheathed sword from her belt, pushing it into Castamir's hands. "Keep this safe for me."

"My pleasure," he smiled in her wake as Kal walked over to the now emptied space, where the one called Borlach had taken off his tunic, leaving him bare-chested. His skin was lined with old, grisly looking scars. He rolled his shoulders and strained the muscles in his neck, his braid of full, black hair coiling around him as he did so.

"Now, remember, no weapons," Castamir said before drawing back with the rest of the motley customers eager for entertainment.

"Make no mistake, little harlot," the man looked Kal in the eye. "I _will_ break you."

Gone into stance, she barely saw the expectant, grinning faces around them. This place reeked of sweat and drink and decay. That blasted human had forced her into this, and she had stupidly allowed herself to be caught in his scheme. _Might as well get it over with. _She walked in a slow circle around her adversary, assessing his weaknesses.

He was well built and fast on his feet as the human lunged towards Kal, trying to grasp at her, but she swiftly leaped out of his way, turning promptly and taking him by surprise; her arm she locked around his neck. She applied as much pressure as she could, but he elbowed her easily in the ribs, forcing her to fall back. She kept moving out of his way, taunting him in ways that had the crowd jeering and hissing at her to hurry it along.

Brow beaded with sweat, her enemy cursed and lashed at her, getting a few strikes in, but she was swifter, and as the man whirled repeatedly around her with his heavier build, Kal at last found a chance and angrily kicked him in the groin.

Her opponent lost his balance and fell back on unsure steps.

That was all she needed.

Abandoning reason to instinct, she sped forward and struck him in the jaw so hard the man staggered back. She hit him again, and again, and again, deaf to the chortling and loud swearing rising around them. Battle lust poured through her veins as a reminder of a past not far removed, and she was taken back to the hot, suffocating fields of her training. And as the human rose unsteadily to one knee, Kal stood before him. Crimson seeped from his wounded face onto his chest, and his nose was broken. She watched him with eerie fascination as her foe struggled to rise. How easy it was to hurt, to maim, to take life. She turned her head, meeting the black eye of Castamir.

"Finish him, do it!" some in the rowdy gathering cried.

The dark-haired human holding her sword nodded.

She realized something then - this was a means to make sure she would be left alone. Kal turned back to the struggling mortal, reached, and with one swift movement, wrung his neck.

He fell limply at her feet. She then fastly knelt and retrieved the pouch from his belt. Without another glance at her kill, Kal straightened, and men parted from her path and made way as she went to Castamir.

"Well done."

"Shut up!" Kal hissed, snatching her weapon from his hands. "I should never have trusted you."

"No," Castamir said tiredly, "For now you have a means of travel and accommodation. What a dreadful outcome," he placed a palm to his face in feigned dismay.

She sighed angrily, looking away. The crowd was slowly dispersing, and some were giving her odd looks. His former comrades were dragging the corpse of the fallen man away. "Where is this accommodation you speak of?"

Castamir blinked, and his vulture-like gaze returned. "Right above you. This place offers bed and board, for a moderate price. I customarily stay here when my travels lead me to Pelargir."

Kal stared emptily at the laden pouch in her hand, weighing the heavy coin. "How do I get one?"

The human bowed his head. "That is the easiest part of all. Come."

And she went, being led to the counter, and the man that had been pouring drinks earlier. Grey-haired and looking very troubled, the innkeeper still agreed to grant her a place to stay and soon enough Kal was pacing along a dark, musty corridor with Castamir and Eron.

Before parting, the dark-haired man said, "Tomorrow you can try for a ship - I am heading to the harbor myself, and-" he eyed her hands before looking back into her eyes, "I could point you towards a strong ship with a good captain in search of able-bodied workers - should you wish to take my word for it, of course. But I must say," his gaze dipped downward again, "once they see your hands..."

Kal understood what he meant. "I can still work. This is but a minor hindrance," she lied.

Castamir pursed his lips, unconvinced. "I know well the ways of sailors and the hard life at sea. I hail from Umbar, you see. Our people make roaming the waters of Middle-earth their livelihood. Come, there is someone that I think can aid with this _minor hindrance_ of yours," and he moved forward without her.

She watched him go, and after a moment of hesitation, Kal followed him up a creaking flight of stairs to the third floor of the inn.

The human stopped before a door and knocked. "Otho, are you decent?" he called. "I have a task for you."

There was no sound at first, but then the door opened, revealing a short being with curly, mousy hair and wide, brown eyes. He was much shorter than his visitors and wore a faded green petticoat over brown trousers. Glancing at his feet, Kal saw they were bare and rather hairy.

"Master?" the fellow inquired, his voice slightly nervous.

"Oh, good," Castamir said, "You are awake. This is Kal," he motioned her way, "We met today - I trust you have something among your array of wonders to aid with burn wounds?"

The short one then looked at Kal. "Of... course, master Castamir sir, yes, right away."

"Splendid," the human said. He then told Kal, "I leave you in the care of my associate, and we may meet tomorrow at noon before the inn, should you decide to join me at the harbor."

Looking from him to the waiting creature, and feeling utterly drained, Kal nodded. "I will think upon it."

Castamir smiled her way, and with a curt bow and a last look towards his comrade, turned and left.

"Now, oh lass, do come in, come in, no use loitering outside, these are ever times of peril," the one called Otho hedged, looking rather fearful at the sight of Eron and his bloodied maw.

"He will not harm you," Kal assured, following inside the chamber.

"No, of course not," the curly-haired creature echoed, though he still kept well away from the wolf, turning to his bags and retrieving a few items from them. "Please, please take a seat there," he pointed to a lone chair at a table.

Kal did as instructed, cautious, though the manner of this creature was not in the least threatening. He also only reached halfway up to her chest in height.

"So, you have met lord Castamir today, have you," he started, and Kal watched him approach, holding a jar filled with greenish-blue paste.

"Yes, we have... met, today," Kal said, not wanting to dwell on it.

"I am Otho, at your service," the other said gallantly with a slight nod of his head.

"What is that?" Kal asked, watching the jar with distrust.

"Oh, this, yes, right. My own invention, better than raw kingsfoil if I might add - it enhances its properties and has many, many uses. Now, let's see those burns."

Kal showed him her palms.

"Oh, these are bad, and untreated too!" he shook his head. "Nothing to worry over, though. Hold out your hands, if you please."

Bemused, Kal did as he asked, watching him stand to his full height before her, with his curls and hairy feet. "You are not human," she remarked.

Otho smiled as his skilled fingers applied the paste. "Indeed not. I am a hobbit, hailing from a place that no longer exists. It used to be called the Shire."

This was new. "A hobbit."

"Yes, well - our kind has not been very prominent nor successful in making do after the War," the hobbit finished in a faraway voice.

"You work for this Castamir, then?" she wanted to know. This one seemed harmless enough. Perhaps there was more to the black-clad stranger.

Otho did not answer right away, reaching for strips of linen he had placed on the table. "Yes, yes, one could say that," he replied absently, and Kal could not yet tell what it was about his answer that unsettled her.

"There," the hobbit said after a time, "By tomorrow, the pain should subside entirely," he lifted his head to Kal, and offered a smile that was both sad and weary, appearing misplaced on his drawn face.

"Gratitude, Otho of the Shire," Kal said. "I will not forget this kindness, though we may not meet again."

"Say nothing of it, young one," the hobbit turned from her to replace his wares. "No trouble at all."

And as Kal rose and left, he stood looking after her before closing the door with a sigh, his head bowed into his chest.

* * *

Reaching her allotted chamber, she entered and waited for Eron, then closed the heavy creaking door behind her. Leaning against it, she took in the space.

A single candle, already burning in one corner. A long window framed by dusty, dark draperies. One of its glass panes was broken, and the night wind hissed through the room. A crooked bed was set against the opposite wall. It looked different and less crude than the abode she had seen in Tolfalas, though it was cleaner there. A small table stood close to the bed.

In the silence of the empty room, the weight of all her choices fell upon her, and her features crumpled. She cursed for having allowed her thoughts to stray there again, willfully stemming the flow of recent memories. Stepping forward, Kal threw her belongings aside, let herself fall bonelessly onto the bed, and lay there, breathing steadily for a while. The flickering light of the candle sent creeping shadows up the walls. Her eyes fell on Eron as she rested on her side, listening to the rain that now tapped its watery fingers against the slate roof.

Her gaze briefly flitted to the pouch lying on the table where the coin of the dead man had spilled out like gleaming, russet scorn. It would still serve as payment for passage, for a place on a ship. The fight had left her no choice besides, as that one surely would have ended her. She knew his kind well, had encountered it often in the Black Land. Had it not been for the cunning idea of the man of Umbar, she would not have had this boon.

Kal frowned, yet wary of the mortal. He asked for nothing in return, but kindness was a rare commodity she had seldom seen on most, aside from a few lonesome souls met in her path. She thought of all the Men she had encountered and loathed, and then, without meaning to, she thought of Faramir. Could this man be of similar make? She shook her head, finding it mattered little if he were. What mattered was to flee this land, but then swelled a stream of sickening guilt at the act that made it possible. A stern, grey gaze flashed through her mind then, cutting her with hurt and disapproval.

_It matters not,_ the thought wedged its way between her remorse again. After _that_ night, when she left, the blazing presence from the cave burned in her conscious; the way a power she had not guessed roused her, tempting and urging towards the magnificent stone. The memory of its light evoked a wistfulness in her, and a sense of loss. The fact that it was _coveted_ by the Shadow proved the shard was no mere trinket. And then, there was the reaction of the elf when he found her.

As she pondered, it became clear that her keeping well away from the isle was the wisest choice made in a while, though there had been few.

Her fingers reached and latched around the grip of her sword, drawing it closer. The metal took of her warmth, and there came pleasant memories of another candlelit night, in the presence of a human ranger and a child. There was an odd smell in the chamber, of old mold and soot. The salve the hobbit had treated her with seemed very effective, as the agonizing ache in her palms was now a mere constant, irksome itch.

Tomorrow, she would seek a place on one of the merchant ships. Tomorrow she may already sail upon the endless seas. The thought was strangely soothing, and with it came a pale form of relief.

She looked to Eron, who had dropped close to the low bed, his bright eyes alight on hers. Her arm extended towards him, and she ran a hand through the soft coat of his hide for a long while. "You need a scrubbing," Kal muttered, frowning at the dried blood on his maw and head.

And then she tried not to think upon it, not to dwell on it, but now, alone with herself, the memory resurfaced no matter where she turned.

Adamant walls. A deadly touch of fire.

She barely kept from clawing at her face, pressing her palms into her eyes instead. The voice still slithered along the very fibers of her, as though it were a palpable presence in the room. She shuddered, thinking of how it had sought and scoured, how it had _known _her. How it had known _him._

The words burst into her mind.

_...that Sinda._

The lifeless grin.

_I remember him._

And she wondered. This could not be, unless the elf had been in His presence, either in the Black Land or close to it, and had been seen...

Kal then remembered he fought in the last War, had led Men in the battle at the Gate - Legolas had spoken to her about that day, and what it meant for their peoples.

And then she saw him again, heard his voice, remembered his deeds... his reluctant kindness, his scent, the tense heat of him; the thread inside her went taut with wretched need. Thoughts became frantic, fleeing over each other like wild horses, and she buried her face into the mattress. Memories rushed forward in a rapid string against her will. All the events of her recent past, their clash, her rashness. The elessar. The spite, their travels, the growing acceptance. His words, and those few, missed moments with him by the sea. And then, that night.

_Do not leave._

She moved from the edge of the bed.

_Not like this._

"No more… " she rasped aloud, twisting to the other side, sparring with her mind.

_I feel you, your anguish, your... thought. As you do mine._

She sullenly banished all thoughts of him and when sleep finally beckoned, there was a soft sigh of relief.

The wailing call of a nightbird broke the silence outside the window.

All was still. She frowned, moving and blinking slowly, feeling dazed and weary and hurt.

The stench of decay and boughs swaying overhead. _Somewhere outside_, she pondered with unease.

Ithilien.

Her feet were thrust from under her, and her body struck the hard ground in a painful heap. She breathed the rust of dying leaves, the reeking, harmful air; felt the cold forest bed beneath her.

"This is quite familiar," her opponent mocked as he hovered with his hand pinning Kal down by her neck, his other hand twisting her arms above her head.

The air caught in her chest, heavy against her fluttering heart. Eyes widening, Kal watched the memory unfolding without her, though she could feel it all. She felt his unwavering strength and saw the harsh scrutiny in his eyes that told her she was his enemy still. Her own hatred in that moment surprised her now, as did the bright, burning shame at her defeat - but it swiftly made way to misery, and a longing so deep, so vicious, that she wanted to scream.

"Legolas..." she gasped under his hold, her eyes beseeching into his distant gaze.

He leaned closer to her face, not having heard. _No, of course not. _She never called his name. She did not know it then.

There were the faint lines engraved in his light irises, spears of ice. She remembered. The scars on his face where she had struck him - she remembered those too.

He looked so weary. Kal held her breath and closed her eyes, reliving how his hand went to her neck, delving under the ripped collar of her tunic. Coarse, warm fingers moved deftly, somehow touching only what they sought.

But instead of retrieving the jewel and placing it back within his tunic as he had done, his hand lingered, reluctant on her skin.

Neither did he rise to his feet and fade from sight. Their eyes met and held, and the elf watched her as if awoken from a trance.

Kal whispered his name again, and followed his molten gaze as he leaned over her, bent his head down, and kissed her.

It was a charge, a rushed, panting struggle - at once she needed it, missed it like air. It was too angry, dismal, and ruthless as they writhed for control and their breathing mingled, and on a gasp, Kal felt her head pulled roughly back, held down by her hair as his teeth lightly grazed her ear.

"This... is not real..." she tried weakly, needing the reminder.

There came no answer, but she still sank deeper and melted into the ground amid wilted leaves and dying grass, uncaring of anything but the taste, the way his skin burned, how the strong slope of his jaw felt beneath her hopeless touch. His hands struggling down her back weakened her as the elf lifted Kal to him, baring one of her shoulders.

Fevered eyes opened to the dust of a sleeping room, and cold, barren stillness. Her chest heaved, and she was trembling despite the burning blush on her face and neck. As the present finally set in, she curled in on herself, clutching at the sheets, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to the 'three gems' and the 'trees' in this chapter is from The Silmarillion. Arwen having visions: I played with the fact that she is of the line of Eärendil, a great Half-elven mariner (who also happens to be her grandfather) who in the First Age voyaged to Valinor, entreated before the Valar on behalf of the Children of Ilúvatar, and then was tasked with carrying a 'star' across the sky. It seemed fitting.
> 
> The memory in the last scene is based on an exchange that happened in chapter 8 - Of land bereaved.


End file.
